


Broken

by virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesiac Sam, Angst, Boy!King Sam, Brutal, Canonical Character Death, Dean Whump, Determined Dean, Emotional Hurt, Evil Sam Winchester, Gritty, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Pain, Physical hurt, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sex, Torture, Wincest - Freeform, Wing Kink, broken but rebellious Dean, master Sam, no happy ending, not an hea, sam with black wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3706099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The apocalypse came to pass, the demons won the war and Dean is in hell.  The tortures stop suddenly, and he finds himself gifted as a toy to The Boy King.  Contrary to what he thinks, this <i>not</i> a good thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com)  
>  Our thanks to sammyknuddel for allowing us to use this gorgeous manip.
> 
> Co-written with Fetish

The final seal was broken by the devil's own chosen one, Sam Winchester, as he killed Lilith ... the first demon.  
Lucifer himself was now free to roam the earth, and with him, a legion of demons that would shake the planet and bring hell to earth, just as Castiel had foretold.

Rivers ran red as blood and the sky fell in fire, water, and ice, killing all but the few who knew how to survive it or who saw the end coming and took measures. Their hell was not over with survival however as the demons took slaves, human slaves with them back down into the pit, body and soul, to do the bidding of the Prince of demons, for he had taken up the throne in Lucifer's stead, in the absence of the father of hell. The chosen of hell, had taken his rightful place, the place he had obtained through his work the night he let loose the Morning Star.

Archangels fought gallantly, along side other warrior angels, Castiel among them, but in the end, all was lost, not a soul was spared from hell's wrath and fury.

And hunters, the ones who had survived the boiling seas, the burning sky and the freezing land, were the first that were taken down into the pit to be tortured and misused as slaves.

Dean Winchester, among them.

Meg stood before his prone form amongst the other hunters who had fought against hell, and smiled wickedly down at him. "Add him to the ranks." Her command rang out loud and clear over the moans of pain and misery.

She was now the demon Prince's right hand man, or woman as it were, and she was the one who made certain _his_ will was carried out, just as her father, Azazel would have done. The job she hated most, however, was gathering men and women for 'the ranks'. It seemed that the Prince had a certain taste in his bed mates. All of them with golden brown hair, green eyes and freckles. It made her smirk to think of what some of those humans who claimed to understand puny human minds, the psychologists, would think about that.

Of course, her greatest pleasure was the fact that hell's prince would grow tired easily and rather quickly of his bed mates, killing them mercilessly. It would be such a fitting and delicious ending ... for Dean Winchest to be killed by his own brother's hand... after...

 

[Two weeks later]

 

For days on end, Dean had been forced to balance on his knees on hard metal bars no more than four inches wide. The so called floor under him was a grid made of the bars set a few feet apart, and each time he shifted or slipped, if his knee or leg slipped through, flames roared up burning his flesh for as long as it took him to regain his balance and get back up on the bar on his knees. They'd tied his wrists behind his back with thin wires that made him bleed and prevented him from using his hands to help himself.

It could be worse. It had been worse. Before this, he'd had meat hooks in his body and been hanged in the air, the weight of his body tearing his flesh. And before that, it had been yet another nightmare.

There was screaming... a lot of it, but he didn't know whether it was his shouts or someone else's. His throat had long ago gone raw, his vocal chords swollen, scratchy and broken. That didn't stop him from yelling... or trying. 

Exhausted, he started to sway forward. If his forehead hit one of the bars, he could hold himself out of the fires below, but if he missed, his face would be blistered off. Again. It never stopped, and somehow, his skin regenerated and burned off, the torture endless.

*

 

As he came back to consciousness, Dean expected fire and heat, or the sting of lashes, or the sharp burn of pierced skin. Instead, he found he wasn't awake at all, he was having a dream. He was laying in a large bed, black silk sheets tangled with his legs, as if he'd thrashed around as he slept. The cool softness slipping against his skin had him near tears. Everything in hell had a hard edge and hurt, but not these sheets. He loved them, grabbed handfuls of them as if for security. This was a dream he liked. A rare and precious gift.

 

 

He took a couple of deep breaths and realized the ever present smell of sulfur was gone, the air was pure. The walls were crimson... not painted with blood, but with velvet. Everything in the room was black or red, including the thick carpet and the furniture. There were black curtains on one wall, covering up a window, blocking all the outside light.

 

 

His desire to see the sun once again motivated him to push the soft sheets away and get off the bed. Looking down, he saw he was wearing only loose pants, like hospital issued pajamas. For a second, his heart leaped. Maybe he’d been injured or sick, maybe he’d been in the hospital and the last weeks had only been a nightmare.

 

 

But even as he walked across the thick pile of the carpet, he knew it was only wishful thinking. Before he reached the curtains, the large door to the room opened and had him turning toward it.

 

Sam walked in, filling the entire doorway. He looked bigger... almost larger than life, and like Dean himself, he only had pants on, except Sam's were leather. He was looking like some damned rockstar and didn't have a scratch on him. All those thoughts went through Dean's mind in a matter of seconds, and then he was across the room, throwing his arms around his brother, and pulling him close. He hadn't thought he'd see Sam again, ever. Thought that by listening to all of those demons, then ignoring his warnings and trying to take the battle on alone... Sam had gone and got himself killed. 

 

"Sammy," a brief smile ghosted over his lips, even as he held tight, unwilling to release his brother just yet.

 

Sam frowned as his new plaything threw itself, or rather _himself_ , into his arms like some long lost lover. Slowly he moved a hand up, placing it tentatively on the man's back. "I know my company is preferred to the torture rooms, but this is a bit much, don't you think?" Sam asked him, quirking a brow, letting his hand slowly slide down the man's back to cup his ass cheek.

A small "huh" broke out of Dean the instant Sam's hand went to his ass. Before he could get a word out, Sam was speaking again.

"Meg has done well this time," Sam smiled as he leaned back, his gaze sweeping over the man's features. "You are exactly to my taste." He patted the man's ass as if in approval, before taking a step back and around him to walk toward the bed.

"Meg has... not again, Goddammit..." Dean practically growled at the fact that Sam was still listening to them. But when Sam didn't even turn to look at him, he frowned.

"Take off those pants," Sam told him, without a backward glance. It was normal for the demons to prepare his playthings, washing them in the scented oils he liked and then dressing them in soft pants, though the clothing only served to irritate him. A part of Sam wondered if it was Meg's idea of 'funny'.

"I would if there were any other choices around here. Sam, stop messing around. We gotta... we gotta get outta here. Do you know what's going on?" he asked, following him. Why the hell wasn't Sam in a hurry? Why was he taking things so easy? 

 

Sam, for the most part, ignored the man who was ranting and raving. Likely, as was the way of many here in hell, the poor bastard had gone slightly mad by now. It wasn't something new, but then, that fact mattered naught to Sam, after all, the man's mind was not what Samuel was after.

Sam moved to stretch out on the bed, laying on his side, his head propped up in a hand, elbow bent as he regarded the man before him. "You will do it because I say so," Sam told him, his voice having lowered an octave and grown husky and sensual. He licked his lips, his hazel orbs traveling over the man's form before returning to his eyes once more, staring unflinchingly into deep pools of emerald. "You will call me Samuel or Master, no one calls me Sam or Sammy. No one. You are mine to do with as I please, from now until the time I grow tired of you."

Dean's eyes widened as he heard words coming out of Sam's mouth that no _brother_ should speak. Stunned into silence, his mind struggled to figure out if this was some sick joke of Sam's, of Meg's or if it was just another nightmare after all. 

Sam moved over a little on the bed, his posture remaining the same, but giving Dean room to join him. "Now, drop those pants and lay with me, let me see if I should reward Meg as I think," Sam told him, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips.

"Nah, I have a better idea." In a few strides, he was at the bed, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him up. "Let's get out of here, and then we'll discuss this Master business. Get up... Sam I mean it, get up," he snapped the order just as he had for so many years of their lives.

Sam didn't budge, only eyed the man, then slowly turned his head to the hand that gripped him, before returning to the man's face.  
"And you were so beautiful too," Sam mumbled and instant before he lifted a hand, his pupils expanding, eyes sliding to black as with demon power he started to choke this man who thought himself good enough to touch The Boy King without permission.

Sam grit his teeth, head tilting to the side as he watched the man struggle and gasp for air. " _I_ told you to take off the pants. _I_ told you to get into my bed. Would you prefer the rack again? Hmm? That can be arranged!" Sam told him with a nod. "I can stand there and oversee that every bit of your skin is pulled from your bones, only to repeat the process again and again! Now... In. The. Bed!" Sam yelled at him, a second before the man's form was crashed down onto the bed.

Sam looke down at him, a slightly crazed smile pulling at his lips. "Now see, it's not so bad in my bed, is it?" Sam asked him, slowly easing the pressure on the man's wind pipe. "Are we going to play nice now?"

Hands on his own windpipe, rubbing the ache away, Dean gasped and panted for air, staring at Sam in disbelief. Demon... he was possessed, but no... his gaze fell to Sam's tattoo... still intact. He scrambled away slightly, then rolled onto his back, face turning back toward him, shaking his head 'no.' He wouldn't do this, Sam wouldn't... torture him?

But he remembered the time Sam had gone darkside and had been more than ready to kill him and all other hunters. The memory of how determined, unrelenting and effective his brother could be sent shards of cold fear into Dean's gut. Dean licked his lips. "Sam? There must be some part of you in there... some part that remembers..." The thought that all of their past might have been eradicated from his brother's memories, the way he was looking at him now like a stranger, it had Dean a little choked up, never mind the physical choking, compliments of Sam.

Sam tilted his head, his gaze dropping to the man's pants, before his hand moved there, cupping his cock and squeezing hard. "I still see these in my way," Sam growled between clenched teeth squeezing just a little harder.

"Awww sonova!" The blinding pain had Dean arching off the mattress, his own hands half clamping over Sam's to instinctively protect himself, half trying to pry Sam's hand away. "God... Sam..." His knee struck air and he was brought near tears before Sam stopped crushing his cock and released him. 

Gasping once again for air, Dean stared daggers at Sam. His jaw pulsed, but he could see no mercy, no connection, nothing between them. Looking down, he lifted the waistband of his pants, and carefully pushed them down, making sure the black briefs remained in place. When he kicked them off, he inched away as far as he could. "So now what... you gonna burn every inch of skin off? That's so been done already." He took a couple more breaths, almost wishing he was back being tortured by others.

Sam grit his teeth, muscle twitching in his jaw as he looked down at the black briefs. He was going to kill Meg, this little game of 'unwrap the present' was wearing very thin with him and he was taking it out on his toys now, not that it really mattered, but they were suppose to add to his pleasure, _not_ be a source of annoyance. His gaze darted back to the man's face as he spoke and Sam quirked a brow. "You would prefer torture to my touch?" That was a new one, most were beating up one another for a chance to get in here, for a small slice of, well, he couldn't exactly call it heaven in here, but his version of hell was a lot more tollerable... up until he snapped their necks anyway.

"Like that wasn't torture," Dean muttered very quietly under his breath.

Sam licked his lips, as he allowed his gaze to run over his plaything's body. "What shall I call you?" Sam asked, his voice soft, nearly a whisper of breath as his hands went to the fastenings of his own pants, though his gaze never left his toy.

Dean's gaze dropped to where Sam was undoing his pants. The other shoe finally dropped. Hell no, he shook his head. " _Brother_ , call me brother," he said in a near growl, panic and rejection of the situation warring inside him. 

Sam smiled at him, wide enough that his dimples showed. "Brother?" he gave a soft chuckle. "Kinky, I like it." He nodded in approval as he pushed his leather pants down. Sam however, was _not_ wearing briefs.

The sight of Sam's fully erect cock scared the shit out of him, even though he tried to hang onto his bravado. What was Sam gonna do? Rape him? Dean sure as hell wasn't gonna let him, even if a monster had taken over his brother, even if his chances at reaching Sam... the real Sam ... was slim. Dragging his gaze away, he answered. "Not a kink... for real, I'm your brother. Dean... you remember me. Think... Think Sam, who took care of you, fed you, got you dressed for school, huh.... you were a kid once, right? That would be _me_ , your big brother." Who fucking fell down on the job. He would have closed his eyes, if he weren't afraid of what would come next.

Sam continued to undress, tossing his clothes away onto the floor, then rolled over, pulling up onto his hands and knees, moving over his new toy.

Sam dipped his head, his lips at Dean's jaw, "Mmm, yeah, Brother Dean, uh-huh," Sam answered softly, "gonna let you feed me. Mmm..." he kissed a slow trail down Dean's jaw to his neck and shook his head slightly, "not dress me, _un_ dress me. Mmm..."

Dean's heart slammed into his chest as his mind rejected this... all of it. It was their anti-history... anti-Sam... and no, he wasn't gonna say it, not gonna think anti-Christ. He put his hands up, trying to keep Sam up high above his body, throwing his head back to avoid any contact between their mouths. Shit... Sam was fucking strong.

Sam licked the tender flesh of Dean's throat, tasting the vanilla oils the demons had bathed Dean in for him, "Big brother, huh?" Sam adjusted his weight, lifting one hand to slid down Dean's body, slipping under the waistband of the small black briefs to cup Dean's cock as he smiled against Dean's throat, "We'll see..."

"No!" Dean half shouted as everything they'd ever been to each other went down the toilet. "No, no Sam, don't you do this," he tried to pull Sam's hand off him, biting himself as Sam's grasp tightened in warning. "Don't you do this Sam. Not with me... not with _me_."

Sam pulled his head up, looking down at Dean for a moment, before a slow smile slid across his face, lashes fluttering closed as he dipped his head. "Need my big brother to take care of me," Sam whispered softly, before slanting his mouth over Dean's, his tongue dragging slowly across Dean's bottom lip before pushing, forcing his way inside even as he felt the man, this 'Dean', trying to reject his kiss.

Licking briefly at the interior of the man's mouth, Sam pulled his head back. "We can do this the nice way, or I can force it, it's all up to you," his eyes narrowed, "but it _will_ happen. So make your choice."

His brothers tongue... in his mouth... Sam's tongue. His hand, where it had no fucking business... like ever. And now a choice... one Sam, his Sam would never give him. "Find another plaything, I think I'll go back to the other torture chamber." He started to push Sam off him, struggling but not giving up. The one thing that had kept him sane here was thinking of his brother and he would be damned if all his memories were replaced by... by this.

Sam's eyes slid back to black a second before demon power held Dean down to the bed. "Have it your way." Sam snarled in anger before pulling back to grab hold of the briefs Dean wore and yank them down and off, throwing them across the room. "If I ever see you in those again, I will watch as a horde of demons fuck you to pieces, is _that_ understood, _'toy'_!?" Sam growled, before shoving Dean's legs upward and holding them there, knees against his chest.

Sam's hand dropped to Dean's tight hole, his fingertips running around the rim slowly, as his eyes narrowed on Dean's face. "I am _not_ some pathetic human's brother! Would your precious _brother_ do this!?" Sam shoved a single digit into the hole as far as he could and continued to press, demon eyes narrowed into deadly, dangerous slits, "WOULD HE!?!" Sam yelled in anger demanding an answer.

As if the position Sam forced him into wasn't humiliating enough, he followed by violating him with hardly any warning. A string of curses slipped out of Dean's mouth, as if they'd ease the pain, as if they could make this all go away. Instinctively, he clenched, increasing the burning in his ass, trying to just fucking breath as Sam was in his face, demanding answers.

"Sam... Sam... help me! Help me," he shouted, "you're in there somewhere... Goddamit, help me... get it off me. Sam... fight it, fight... for me," he demanded, one part of him sure it was futile, another part of him just as sure that Sam would rescue him, cause that's what brothers did. "Fight it."

Sam's free hand snaked out and grabbed Dean's jaw, fingertips pressing hard into the hollow cavity of his cheeks, making the hunter's mouth open as he gripped his jaw bone with bruising force, teeth clenched. "I told you _not_ to call me that!" Sam sneered as a shadow fell over the bed from behind Sam, large bat-like wings unfurling from Sam's back in his anger.

Dean was breathing so hard, his stomach was caving inwards and pushing out with every breath. He thought for a second that the blinding pain searing his jaw and his head was making him see things, but the image wouldn't clear. They were there.... big black wings that spanned the width of the bed, and there was nothing angelic about them. They were angular, and threatening... intimidating. They shouted _monster_ just as loudly as the finger Sam still had up his ass.

Dean's gaze dropped. He stopped struggling, stopped making eye contact, stopped 'engaging.' He needed to think, to reassess. He needed to fucking take this down a notch or two so this demon... it would maybe come up with a new game, one that didn't involve rape.

Sam watched Dean for a long moment, slowly withdrawing his finger from his ass, his hand from his jaw, withdrawing the demon power that held Dean in that position, allowing his legs to fall down onto the bed.

Slowly, almost gently, Sam moved, sliding up over Dean's body and lowering, blanketing himself over the hunter, his large wings covering them both, as he dipped his head to Dean's neck again, kissing a slow path along the tender flesh. "Much better," Sam told him softly. "Just relax and let it happen, I can make it good for you," Sam murmured huskily against the hunter's throat.

Dean's throat convulsed under Sam's lips. So soft, so gentle all of a sudden, almost as if he'd imagined the rest. Almost. _let it happen_. The words rang in his ears over and over again as Sam kissed him in ways a brother never should, as he spoke in a lust-roughed voice Dean had hoped never to hear, as he touched him. 

This... gentle _almost Sam_ doing things his Sam would never do got to him far more than when he'd been rough, and hurting him. So close, so close to his brother... only this version had lost his mind. A sob welled up in his throat. He turned his head to the side as tears slipped endlessly down his cheeks and onto the black material under him, as he lay still... as if in death.

Sam lifted his head slightly, slanting his mouth over Dean's, pressing his tongue past his lips and into his mouth, caressing the interior, mapping out his mouth, running the tip of his tongue over the roof of his mouth and the backs of his teeth, before withdrawing, his lips still so close to Dean's they brushed as he spoke. "Kiss me back, Dean, please," Sam asked softly, eyes still closed. 

So soft spoken, so like Sam, he just wanted to do anything he asked. Dean started to kiss him, started to tangle his tongue with Sam's until his brain caught up. Emotional as he was, he knew... knew Sam wouldn't ask for this. Like a speeding car hitting the brakes, he went from 90 miles per hour to 5, giving Sam the minimum that could still qualify as a kiss, almost chaste... unwilling... even though an obscene part of his mind was screaming at him to do it right, lose himself in the kiss... forget who he was with... just take the fucking comfort.

Sam pulled his head back, frowning softly down at Dean. "Do I suddenly taste bad? What happened?" One hand rose to brush a thumb down Dean's cheek bone, even as his wings seemed to fold back and disappear from view. He smiled softly. "It's gonna be so good, I promise, you don't have to worry about anything anymore. Dean. Let me do this," Sam told him, before dipping his head, kissing a slow path down Dean's chest, his body slowly sliding down Dean's as his lips moved lower.

"No..." Dean rasped, turning his head away the instant Sam's mouth left his. He wanted to hate this, did hate it... but he couldn't help the shiver that ran down his body as Sam kissed his throat, made love to him slowly. He told himself it was just an all new brand of torture. First they inflicted pain and isolation, then they gave him a taste of physical comfort with a huge price tag... his fucking brother was on the other end of these kisses.

He squirmed, then closed his hands around fistfuls of the sheets. "You know what you're doing? What you're doing to me?" he asked hoarsely. "You broke me already, alright. This is _not_ necessary."

Having reached Dean's stomach, Sam lifted his head, a smile curving the corners of his lips upward. "Not breaking you, wanna see you fall to pieces though and be there to put you back together again when it's over." His smile widened before dipping his head once more and flicking his tongue into Dean's bellybutton, then sliding down, his hand wrapping around the hunters cock, pumping slowly for a few strokes before darting his tongue out and licking the length of his dick, base to tip, moaning low.

"No!" It was a gutteral cry as Dean gripped Sam's wrist, tightened his hold. "No... no... please no," he pleaded even as his cock reacted, lengthening and hardening, filling with blood. He stared at Sam, eyes shooting fire, accusing. "You don't want to do this... you don't," he kept insisting, his muscles tensing, his heart beating way too fucking fast. He bit his lip in an effort to stop even the slightest enjoyment. This was wrong... so fucking wrong.

Sam smiled up at him, his hand still wrapped firmly around Dean's cock, even with Dean's grip on his wrist, he continued to pump him.  
"I don't?" Sam asked him, quirking a brow. He tilted his head, "Why would I not want to, _Dean_?" he asked him. Licking his lips, Sam dipped his head, running his tongue around the crown of the hunter's cock slowly before pulling his head up, his gaze once more on Dean's face. "Because I remind you of this brother of yours? This baby brother who you took care of? That you consoled and kissed and loved and held in your arms," he shook his head. "Then let me be him, hold me, kiss me, console me, take _care_ of me," he ground his hard cock against Dean's leg, "I _need_ my big brother."

Looking into Sam's eyes, for a moment, Dean felt like he'd do anything for him, anything. Then Sam was grinding his erection into him at the same time he called him his _big brother_ and all bets were off the table. "Fuck you... you're not Sam, fuck you," he started to thrash, managed to punch Sam's smiling face once, before his eyes bled black and chilled Dean to the core. He didn't care... he just wanted Sam... whoever this was... to play his sick games with someone else.

Sam pulled up to his knees and held out his hand, pinning Dean to the bed, stretching his arms and legs out spread eagle, as far as they would go, nearly painfully. "I can keep going," he tilted his head to the side, "make a choice." Sam offered, "Or you can _beg_ my forgiveness and we can pretend that your stupid little tantrum never happened. "Make a choice, Dean. What would your _Sam_ want you to do!?" 

 

Gritting his teeth, Dean stubbornly clung to his silence until the pain was unbearable, until he thought he was going to be torn in two, that his body couldn't take any more. His screams didn't seem to affect Sam at all. Maybe it would be better if he just died... just fucking got it over with. Only he knew it wouldn't be over with. They burned his flesh off and he'd grown new skin to be burned, why should this be different. His mouth was bloodied and torn before the words left him "Please... I'm sorry... s...sorry..." his voice rose as he heard his limbs crack.

Sam released him from his power, his hand dropping to his side before Sam pulled from the bed, walking toward the curtains. "Since you seem to almost be more trouble than you're worth the way you are, I am going to have to resort to other methods for you, I guess." 

Reaching the curtains, Sam reached out gripping both and parting them open to reveal what appeared to be torture devices hanging on the wall, bondage things, devices of every sort for pain and pleasure. He stood eyeing them a moment, before looking over his shoulder at Dean. "What do you think? Hog tied and gagged so I don't have to hear that mouth, or shall I get the sawhorse and we go a little more wild?" he smirked at him, before returning his gaze to the items before him. 

"Sonova..." he was still trying to ease the pain at the juncture of his legs and thighs, when he saw what was behind the curtains. "If that's the only way you can get anyone to sleep with you," he shot back, even as his blood froze in his veins, even as scenarios he never wanted to think about crossed his mind. He was just hardwired that way, his mouth went off before he could stop it.

He took a couple breaths. Thought about apologizing again, but the instruments on the wall told him apologies would do shit. There was a reason for them, and it had nothing to do with his smart mouth. Nothing. Eyes locking with Sam's, he silently searched for any signs of his brother. _Sammy... need your help here. Meet me half way. Let's fight this thing together._

Sam turned and walked back over to the bed, sitting down on the edge, his gaze intent on the human's face as he shook his head slightly, "Usually, no... I don't," he pressed his lips together as he searched the man's face, brows slowly furrowing in thought as he lifted a hand to gently run a thumb along Dean's forehead, "but you're... different. I'm not sure why." He tilted his head to the side, rising abruptly and walking back over to the wall of devices. "But, even if you intrigue me, I will grow tired of this soon enough, I suggest you take this breather while you can. I am not a bad lover and I told you," he said as he reached out pulling a length of leather off the wall and a gag, "I can make it good for you."

Looking at the strap and the gag, Dean snorted. The only person who'd think it was _good_ was the one who'd be doing the tying and the fucking. He shook his head 'no' as Sam approached, he scrambled to the side of the bed, got off. Naked, he felt so fucking vulnerable. There were a few things on that wall he could use, but not now, not when Sam was so alert. Right now... the sinking feeling in his stomach told him he was screwed, figuratively and literally.

Sam shook his head slowly. "Get back on the bed, Dean. Don't fight me on this, you'll only lose and wind up getting hurt," Sam told him calmly, though bat-like demon wings unfurled from his back, giving testament to how _not_ calm he really was.

With those wings spread like that, Sam looked bigger, more forbidding. "You get bored, you just said so. Then play a game with me. Cards... I win, then we forget this. You win, and I'll do what you say," Dean offered. His licked his upper lip and tasted salt and blood. _Take it... take the bait Sam._ He neither backed away nor did as he was told. "Come on... what could it hurt, and you'd be entertained. It's a good deal."

Sam narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare unflinchingly at the apparently daft hunter. "You just don't know when to shut up and do what you're told do you?" Sam asked him, voice soft and deadly. "I can kill you right now, simply snuff you out of existence," he lifted his head his gaze flickering toward the ceiling, before settling back on Dean once more, "then you'd never see if your puney little rag tag band of hunters survive this." He smiled slow, "And what of this precious Sammy?" he tilted his head, "Hmm? Surely you want to see him again one day... yes?" Sam's hands, gripping the leather strips clenched tighter and loosened as he watched Dean, waiting, like a snake about to strike it's prey. 

It made no sense. It was illogical, but Dean saw red. He took a few slow steps toward the bed, then launched himself at Sam, arms outstretched, hands clawing to get a grasp on his throat. "Sammy... Sam," he shouted, even though he was trying to take this fuck wearing his brother skin down. "Help... Sam, you gotta--"

Sam took a step back away from the hunter, one hand snaking out to grab a wrist and slowly started to bend it backward at an angle that human bones were not meant to go. Sam's eyes bled to black as he continued pressing Dean's wrist back slowly, listened to bones pop and crack, a cold cruel smile spreading crossed his face before all at one he released Dean bodily, and tossed him across the room instead with demon power.

Dean grunted, though he wanted to yell, only his pride, what little of it was left keeping him from it. Groaning, he tried to push away from the wall, but fell back against it. His hand was dropped to a weird angle... wrist broken. He raised tear filled bitter eyes. Once Sam would be the one to fix him up, now he was battering him, like he was nothing.

Watching as the human's back smacked soundly against the wall, Sam tilted his head. "You've got to be the dumbest one yet," he nodded as he walked over, leaning his face in next to the hunter's. "What is it? Hmm? You never saw yourself as the guy fucking type? Or rather, the type to _be_ fucked by a guy. Maybe you just aren't able to get it up, hmm? Don't worry, these powers can do wonders," he sneered, leaning in closer, his lips brushing Dean's. "Or maybe..." he licked his lips, purposefully letting his tongue touch the hunter's, "maybe you'ree just freaked because I remind you of sweet Sammy and you secretly always wanted to fuck your baby brother, hmm? Is that it? Had some sort of incestuous kink all these years, brother dear?" He smiled slow, "Want me to beg you to stop, cry out for Mommy and Daddy while we fuck?" he chuckled softly.

All these fucking things he was saying, things Dean should be kicking his ass over, and all he could do was turn his face away. That's it. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to move to. He took a couple deep breaths. "Please... please." But he knew none of it this would help. Not begging, not fighting, not anything that happened in this room. The best he could hope for was an interruption. "Please," he shook his he head and lifted his uninjured hand and felt it slip across satiny soft wings.

Sam started to lift his head back, his face away from Dean's as he begged, only to jerk back, eyes widening as Dean's hand touched his wing. "Don't!" the command snapped abruptly, obviously a startled response, the black of Sam's eyes shrinking back to hazel.  
"I don't -" Sam shifted his weight almost nervously. "No one touches those," he told him softly before his eyes narrowed once more. Pulling his wings back, like a butterfly sitting on a flower, so that each wing nearly touched, sitting straight up on his back, Sam stepped closer again. "Now, where were we? Oh, right," he nodded, a devious smile pulling at his lips, "your brother fucker kink."

Sam's reaction didn't escape Dean, but his words stirred up the same red rage. Only this time, Dean restrained himself. "You're the one with the kink bro, I don't want to do you." But when he looked up, the earlier fire in his eyes was mostly out. There was no escape, not here, not now. And he needed to live another day if he wanted to find a way to free Sam from this.

Sam leaned in, pressing his body against Dean's. "If that the way you want to play, I can role play," Sam nodded, "sure." He licked his lips, his eyes intent on Dean's making them softer, nearly pleading with sincerity. "I can't help it, Dean. It's not me, you know it isn't me. It's hell and the things they do to a person." He shook his head, eyes seeming to fill with tears. "Forgive me, Dean, but I gotta. I need it, need you..." Sam told him, as his eyelids fluttered closer and he leaned in, slanting his mouth over Dean's. Sam spoke against Dean's lips, "You always said you'd take care of me, Dean..." Sam reminded him softly, playing him like only a demon could. 

"Sam... Sam." Tears rolled down Dean's cheeks again. He found himself putting his hand on the side of Sam's face in an almost caress, not fighting the kiss. What if some part of this wasn't really an act. What if Sam was in there, trying to apologize? His lips trembled. He dropped his head onto Sam's shoulder, spoke near his ear. "Bastard... stop this." His heart was breaking, his body was broken. What else did he want from him?

Sam pulled his head back a wicked laugh bubbling from his lips. "Oh," he shook his head, "I'm glad to hear that was not like your brother, what kind of prissy pansy would he have been?" he laughed harder, mocking in a high pitched girly voice as he rolled his eyes. "Oh, Dean, I'm so sorry. I love you and don't want to do this."

Hand at his stomach, Sam took a deep breath, nodding. "I haven't laughed like that in," he shook his head, "I can't remember when." He cleared his throat and gestured toward the bed as he released his hold on Dean and stepped completely back. "Go, get on the bed." A few stray chuckles worked out of him as he waited for Dean to do as he said, the bat-like wings now gone once more from Sam's back.

Dean felt Sam's gaze on him. Tried to mask his every reaction, trying not to show it cost him to get up, to push away from the wall. Reluctantly, slowly, he padded to the bed, then got in it, pulling the stupid sheets over himself like they'd protect him. Head raised, he watched Sam and tried not to look at the stuff he'd put on the bed. 

Sam walked over to the bed, still shaking his head, a wide smile on his face, making his dimples show. Climbing into the bed next to Dean, Sam lay on his side next to him. "You've made me laugh and for that," he nodded at the leather strips and gag, "I will not use those unless you fight me." His gaze intent on Dean's face, "Fair enough?" he asked him. "In fact, give me your wrist," Sam told him, holding a hand out.

He didn't trust Sam, not as far as he could throw him. First he thought of giving his good wrist, but then what if he crushed that too? At least the bad one was no use already. Slowly, he put his hand in Sam's. Once he'd trusted Sam to sew up his injuries, and relocate his shoulder. Now... now he needed medical aid because of Sam. 

Sam gave a nod of approval and moved to sit up in the bed, cradling Dean's wrist in one large hand, his other rising to lay over it, cupping it, before Sam closed his eyes, brow creased as if deep in thought. Slowly the bat-like wings unfurled from Sam's back, stretching out to their complete span, then slowly flapping as Sam's hands grew warm around the hunter's wrist. Biting his lip, Sam turned his head to the side, eyes squeezing tightly together before blowing out a breath, his eyes slowly opening, blinking, wings folding and disappearing. Uncupping his hand from Dean's wrist, he released the hunter's now healed wrist hand. "The Christ isn't the _only_ one who can do that."

"Yeah?" Dean made a fist and twisted his wrist around. "Bet he doesn't do it only so he can break it again." Dean was so onto them. If Sam thought he was gonna get a 'thank you' he was sorely mistaken. He took his hand back, and refused to meet Sam's eyes.

"I bet he doesn't have ungrateful hunters annoying him night and day either," Sam retorted smoothly, before moving to stretch out on his side once more, facing Dean, head propped on a fisted hand, elbow bent. "And you're welcome." Sam told him softly, "I told you," he shook his head, "this doesn't _have to_ be a bad thing for you." He shrugged a shoulder. "Now... I want you to kiss me."

Damn him. Goddamn him. Taking a deep breath and holding it in, Dean rolled closer and kissed Sam lightly on the corner of his mouth. This was so wrong on so many levels, wrong that Sam wanted this from him. He followed the letter of Sam's demand, even if not its spirit. "There."

Sam watched as Dean pulled away, a nearly bored look on his face before he rolled over onto Dean's body, blanketing him as he grabbed for the hunter's wrists, pinning them to the bed. "Now, I want you to tell me _why_ this bothers you so... and don't lie," Sam grinned, "my father is the master of them, I would know if you were."

Feeling the weight of Sam's body on his, feeling Sam's still aroused cock grinding into him, feeling trapped with his arms pinned, his heart fucking racing, Dean breathed hard, trying to calm himself. "Why shouldn't it? You're a guy. You're my brother. You're a monster. This is worse than doing Meg," he spat out, wiggling slightly. "Why don't you tell me _why_ this turns you on if you have people falling all over you, like you say." 

Sam's eyes narrowed. "I am _not_ a monster!" he growled out between clenched teeth, "but I can be!" he added, dipping his head to trail hot open mouthed nips and licks up Dean's neck as he started to thrust against him hard. "I can take," Sam bit out, against Dean's neck, "whatever I fucking want!" he bit into the tender flesh of Dean's neck hard enough to leave a horrible bruise, maybe even draw blood.

Pulling his head back, Sam's eyes bled to black, "And your brother is _dead_ , get over it!" he spat angrily before pulling up to kneel between Dean's legs, moving Dean's arms as he did, so that they were now held in his hands down at Dean's sides. "You want to _know_ what kind of monster I can be!? How about if I just fuck right now, hmm? If I just shove it in and if you really _are_ the virgin you claim to be, I'm sure the blood will lube you up after a while!" The bat-like wings were back, unfurled to their full span and slowly flapping.

He bit him like that, threatened him like that, and Sam expected to be called something other than monster? "Is there any chance in hell that you won't do any of those things?" Dean was serious. "Offer me a deal, I'll take it." If it weren't for the fact he wanted to see everything Sam did, didn't want to be surprised, he'd have closed his eyes against the sight of his brother with inky black eyes. It would scar him forever.

Sam gave a nod, "Yes," the word hissed as it dropped from his lips like a snake "Lay there and be a good boy and take it and I won't force you." Sam told him, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "That's how it can _not_ happen that way, that's my deal. Take it or leave it, but do it now, I'm through playing with you... _**brother**_!" Sam spat the last word out in a sneer.

The so called deal didn't get him off the hook. "Fuck you," Dean whispered. "Fuck. You."

Sam's lips curled into a slow evil smile. "No, Dean, you have that as incorrect as everything else. Fuck YOU." In a flash of movement, Sam released Dean's wrists, using demonic power to all but throw him over onto his stomach, arms above his head, pinned to the bed, ass high in the air, chest and face against the bed.

Sam reached for the gag as he leaned up over Dean, sliding the ball gag into his mouth, fastening it behind his head. "To keep that damn mouth of yours shut!" Sam growled in his ear, as his hands moved back to Dean's ass, parting his cheeks and aligning his hard cock's blunt tip with the hunter's tight hole. "I'll be sure to give your brother my regards," Sam sneered, just before thrusting inside Dean, balls deep in one harsh motion.

Dean's angry shouts were muffled and incomprehensible, as incomprehensible as the situation he found himself in. Somehow, despite all the threats, all the signs, he'd really... truly... believed that it wouldn't come to this, that he would not be raped. Wrong... so fucking wrong... so painfully wrong. His neck, the only part of him that could move, stretched and arched back as he silently screamed out his pain, his humiliation, his anger.

No gentleness in the gesture at all, just a quick and hard, harsh filling of Dean's ass with his cock before he started to pump, thrusting in and out hard as he released Dean's ass cheeks and leaned back over him. "Mmm... you were right... so tight," Sam sucked in air between his teeth, "so good." Sam's hands ran over Dean's body, mapping him out, learning every area, feeling muscles tense and bulge as he struggled, only making the Demon Prince moan louder, thrust harder. "S' good, Dean, Mmm..." Sam panted out, face pressed against the hunter's throat.

Every word, every fucking word from the demon spawn that was _not_ his brother made it just a little worse. He had Sam's cock up so deep inside him, tearing him up with each thrust of Sam's hips and the fucker had the nerve to praise him, to moan out his pleasure. No... no Goddamit... no! He tried, he tried so fucking hard to escape the invisible force that held him in place. His teeth bit into the ball, he bit down harder, trying to break either the damned thing or his teeth. 

Each painful thrust gave him visions of blowing Sam's brains out, one using one gun after another... payback. It would stop soon, it had to... had to......he grunted each time he took Sam all the way, clenched to stop the force of the invasion only to hear Sam cry out his pleasure even more. Away from me, get away, he wanted to shout and scream... but there was no salvation, no help... Sammy... Sammy didn't live here anymore.

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean, one hand going to the hunter's cock to pump him as he continued to thrust hard and fast into his ass. Sucking in air between his teeth Sam panted against Dean's neck, murmuring how good he was, how tight and how hot, how he loved the way he felt, the way he moved. "Want you to cum for me, Dean. Wanna lick it off you, wanna taste you..." he gave a long low groan, "Oh fuck..." His hand on Dean's cock moved faster along with his thrusts, lips messily kissing against Dean's neck and ear.

 _No. No don't touch me like that. No._ Dean's mental screams drowned everything else out. He concentrated on the pain, tried to to keep it in the forefront of his brain, tried to use it to fight the arousal Sam was instigating. He was not gonna come for that bastard. Not gonna do it. No. Growling he squeezed his eyes shut, tried to stop listening, thought about whether he was bleeding... the damage Sam was doing, thought about how they must look... prison rape... and then he was sobbing, crying, because his cock wouldn't listen, not when Sam was relentlessly touching him like that. No.. he was not gonna come... no fucking way.

"Oh yeah, so good Dean, yeah there ya go, just like that." Sam kissed his neck, licked along the shell of his ear, his hand relentlessly pumping his cock. "Oh God, so good, feel so good, so hot and tight," he sucked in air between his teeth, "Squeeze me again, come on, baby. So good..." Sam whispered in Dean's ear as if they were lovers and he was not forcing him, as if this were not hell and Dean were not his SexSlave.

"Fuck! Fuck! No! Shit! Oh God not yet!" Sam grit out between clenched teeth, pulling one arm out from around Dean to slide between them and squeeze the base of his cock to keep from cumming. Sam slowed his thrusts, alternating between fast and hard and soft and slow, pivoting his hips and scraping the blunt end of his cock over the tight bundle of nerves inside Dean, his own breaths panting out, forehead against Dean's shoulder. "Feel so good, you make me cum too quick." he gave a soft rough chuckle, before moaning his pleasure in Dean's ear.

Too quick... it was too long, it was a lifetime. Shame swept through Dean as one more stroke of his cock had him coming. Not hard, not with pleasure... just mechanically coming, that's what he kept telling himself as his breathing slowly eased. He felt liquid slide down his thighs, knew it was Sam's cum... hated him, hated what he'd done... How could he talk to him like this and use him like that? How?

Even slowing, Sam had ended up cumming far sooner than he would have liked, his new toy, everything he could have wanted and more. He didn't cower like the others, but engaged him in battle, kept him sharp and on his toes. Even as it irritated the hell out of him, no pun intended, it excited something in Sam, felt right.

And then once he had been sheathed inside his tight hole, Sam had been lost to sensations, the man had been telling the truth about his 'virgin ass.' That mattered little to Sam. It just made it all the better as his tight muscles clenched around his length, driving him crazy with need.

Slowly pulling his cock free of the man's ass, Sam reached across to a small bedside table and opened the drawer, pulling out a small black cloth no bigger than a wash rag and started to clean them up before leaning up to remove the gag, then releasing his hold on the man, rolled him over, still kneeling between his legs, Sam dipped his head to lick at Dean's flaccid cock, moaning softly with each pass of his tongue. "So good, baby... so good..."

Once he was released from the force holding him up, Dean collapsed on his back, staring at the ceiling. His eyes were bleary, pain wracked his body, and was just barely aware of Sam between his legs, licking him... touching him. "Sick fuck," he ground out, trying not to lose all sense of himself, cause that would be just so easy.

Sam glanced up at Dean's face, a smile tugging at his lips. "And yet you came so beautifully," Sam told him softly, hands caressing up and down Dean's thighs as he continued to lick him clean, then crawl up his body, lowering himself down on him. "Admit it, you enjoyed it," Sam shrugged, "maybe not at first, I admit, it wasn't how I had planned, but after..." he smiled, dipping his head to lick across Dean's bottom lip. "Mmm..." he moaned softly, "I think I am going to enjoy having those to kiss anytime I want." 

A whimper sounded from Dean. He turned his face away, tried not to listen to him. Tried not to be ashamed of his bodies reaction. Tried not to move, if only not to get him interested again so soon.

Sam pulled his head back, looking down at Dean's face. "Do not look away from me." Sam told him, frowning. "What is it? Am I so ugly to you now, when before I reminded you of your beloved Sammy?" Sam's eyes narrowed, "perhaps you never really loved him at all."

"You just raped me. Why the fuck would I ever want to look at you?" Dean's voice shook. His entire body started to shake as the reality of what just happened... this guy... Sam's body.. it ... he'd... What he really wanted to do was turn his face away, but he didn't. He just held very still.

Sam shrugged a shoulder as if it were a meaningless thing that he had done. "It's nothing compared to the tortures that you have suffered... and you _came_ , you apparently did not hate it all that much." He huffed and pulled away, rolling onto his back beside Dean. "I think next time I shall have you on your back, I want to _see_ your face when you cum." He smirked at the thought.

Next time. There couldn't be a next time. Still shaking, Dean rolled onto his side, his hand clenching around fistfuls of the soft bed linen. He kept grabbing more and more and more, then pushed it into his own mouth, to stop himself from sobbing, to stop from screaming and getting this fuck off again. _Help me. Sam.... Dad.... Help me._

Sam looked at the hunter frowning. "I do not understand this, I am," he frowned harder, "not one for these displays of emotion. Do you plan to do this every time afterward? If so, maybe I should blindfold you so I don't have to witness it," he huffed and pulled up to sit on the bed, reaching for his leather pants.

Pulling to his feet next to the bed, Sam started to dress, "Demons," he jutted his chin toward the back wall, "others, will come in and clean you. I have duties to tend to in the mean time, but I will be back. I expect you naked and waiting on the bed for me when I return," Sam told him with a nod as he finished securing his pants closed.

Every word scared Dean because it had just been proven to him that there would be follow through. He had no doubt now that demons would come in and handle him, and that Sam would rape him again, blindfold him, gag him, whatever he needed to do, whatever was his pleasure. "Clean myself up," he managed, not wanting anyone else to touch him, to see the evidence of the rape. Then he prayed Sam would be gone a long while, long enough for Dean to get a hold of himself and plan how he would get his brother back.

Sam smiled, then started to laugh. "How... interesting... a hunter who is _shy_..." he threw back his head and laughed again, laughed all the way to the door and out, slamming it closed behind him. Sam had duties to tend to, ones that his damnable father had left him with while _he_ got to have all the fun above killing. Sam huffed as he walked, his smile falling away into a dark frown. Such was the life for Lucifer's son.

Pulling the silk material out of his mouth, Dean let out a howl. Then another. Then another, and he couldn't stop. He shouted out his rage, his pain, he railed at God, at Castiel, at the bad star he was born under. Then he railed at fate. At last he was in a room where there were items he could use as weapons, to kill himself, and yet... if he did that, he would never get the chance to try to undo whatever had been done to Sam.


	2. Chapter 2

Nearly six hours later Sam was storming back toward his room, Meg following after him, blabbing in his ear about this duty and that and how his father would want him to do it this way, not his way and how SHE thought he should handle the new hunters that had been brought to hell HER way.

Sam tugged open the door to his room, looking back at her over his shoulder, his wings tucked behind him as he glared at her in anger. "I don't want to hear another word of it, Meghan! Not another word!" Sam snarled through clenched teeth.

Meg glanced past him at Dean, hiding a knowing smirk before she looked at Sam once more. "Why don't you just go fuck your -" her lips had started to form the word 'brother', but she caught herself, just barely. She smiled sweetly at Sam then, "I mean, go fuck your new toy, Sammy. I got it all under control, don't worry about it," she told him, laying a hand on his arm. "I can just remember when you were young, how your father had such high hopes for you, I wouldn't want him to be disappointed now... would you?" she asked him, pouting prettily.

Though Dean's heart was ramming against his chest, he paid close attention to all that was said. Sam's father? So he was brainwashed into thinking he was the son of Lucifer? He wasn't being ridden by Lucifer, at least. Didn't make sense... but he'd just have to keep digging, figuring out what had happened.

"No," Sam huffed, jaw still clenched. "Fine, toss the new hunters onto the racks as you say," he nodded, "give them no quarter, and continue with the one called Jo until she breaks and tells us where the others are, I think she is likely to be the first one to give up information," Sam told her with a nod.

"Good idea, Sammy." Meg purred, glancing once more at Dean, her lips curling into an evil smirk before she quickly turned and walked away. Sam sighed and continued into the room. "Get on the edge of the bed on your back, legs off of it, feet flat on the floor!" Sam commanded, not looking up at Dean, as his hands went to the fastenings of his leather pants.

"What? Meg pisses you off and you gonna take it out on me?" Dean asked, moving very slowly to do what Sam said. "Look, I know Jo. She's not even a hunter, she's just a kid. Meg's full of it." Seeing no reaction, he tried again. "She's a liar and has her own agenda, you should know that. She taught you before. When you _were_ my brother."

Sam looked up at Dean frowning. "I was _never_ your brother." He told him, before tearing his gaze away once more to finish removing his pants.

"You think I'm making it up? Why? Why would I make something like that up?" He reached the edge, and eyed Sam's naked form. "Where did the wings go?" He thought they could be used to get Sam off his game. "Come on, you're the big boss guy, or so you think. Answer me that."

Sam's head snapped up, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, a second before he raised his hand sending Dean flying across the room and into a wall. "I **AM** 'the big boss guy' here! DO NOT ever forget that!" he yelled in a rage, his wings unfurling from his back. Sam glanced back at them with a smile that held no merriment, before returning his gaze to Dean. "As for these, they come and go," he made a face of annoyance. "It has to do with my moods. Why do you care!?" Sam stared intently at the hunter, muscle twitching in his jaw.

Legs pulled up to his chest in his best attempt to cover himself, Dean rested his aching head against the wall. If he'd been thrown against the one that was curtained off, he could have been skewered. "It's... not as cool as Castiel's. His are like a shadow... but you probably don't know him either. Or Jessica. Or John or Mary Winchester."

Sam's eyes narrowed slowly as he looked at Dean, finally he nodded, "I know Castiel. He is an angel of the Lord, of course we know who he is here." He licked his lips before turning to walk to the bed. "As for the others...Mmm... I've heard about John Winchester, never met him personally, but my father told me about the hunter he had here and tortured mercilessly as he begged for one last chance to see his pathetic children." Sam told him as he took a set on the bed, then moved to lay down on his side facing the hunter. "Come to me."

"You don't wanna just throw me on the bed? Just against walls then?" Pushing himself off the ground, Dean refused to limp. "John was your father. Our father. You think I'm lying, then let me take you somewhere, I'll show you pictures of you... me... our parents." His steps were deliberately slow and small.

Sam huffed. "I am not the son of a coward, my father is the Great Morning Star, the first angel, once loved above all others. That human was a weak pathetic waste of oxygen," his lips curled into a cruel evil smile, "had I been his tormentor, he would not have survived as long as he did here," he shrugged a shoulder, "after all, it gets boring after a while. Now hurry up and stop stalling," Sam rolled his eyes. "You'd think I was going to pull your skin from your bones." He quirked a brow, "I could, would you like that?" he licked his lips, chewing on the bottom one, as his gaze roamed over Dean. "Some people have a pain _kink_ you know."

"That's my father, you're talking about." Dean stooped at the edge of the bed, one hand over his privates. He could feel Sam's eyes on him, leaving blazing hot trails. His stomach lurched. "Why can't we just talk? Why?" 

Sam smiled, a slow, conniving smile, like a snake would if it had the ability. "Alright," he waved a hand at the bed. "Lay with me, and we'll _talk_."

Dean got on the bed, almost got under the sheets, but changed his mind. If he'd caught Sam in a good mood, it wouldn't be a good thing to get him out of it. He lay on his side, His top knee touching the bed, and covering his privates from view. "Do you think you're wearing someone's body?"

Sam laughed outright. "Yes, Dean, I am wearing someone's body," he told him nodding, " _mine_." His laughter fell away, though he continued to smile, "My turn now." His gaze ran over Dean's body. "Where do you," his gaze slowly rose to Dean's face, "like to be _touched_?" he asked softly, the heat in Sam's eyes was hard to miss.

Frowning, Dean answered through gritted teeth. "My hair. My turn. What if you're not who you think you are... where, how could we check it out? How would they have done this to you?"

Sam shook his head. "No one has done anything to me, but if you must be reassured, ask _any_ demon here." He smiled, "Now me... Did you like it when I licked you clean?" Sam asked, a slow knowing smile spreading over his face.

"No." Dean's answer was immediate, and resentful. "Do demons lie?"

Sam's smile fell away, only to return a moment later as he shook his head slowly. "Now you're lying. I told you I would know, but you want to be shy," he nodded, "I will allow it." Sam licked his lips, his gaze dropping to Dean's lips. "And yes, but no more than hunters," Sam answered Dean's question, voice soft. "Would you _let_ me kiss you?" Sam asked, his gaze never leaving Dean's mouth.

He wanted to shout with frustration, but he turned to face Sam. He swallowed hard, both at that look, and because at the end of the day his own answer wouldn't mean anything. Maybe he could make it. "If you go to Jo, ask her who you are, then yeah... I'll kiss you... or let you, whatever."

Sam bit his lip as he thought about it, "Kiss me and I'll go ask her." His gaze darted up to Dean's face, "but a real kiss, not like last time."

 _Demons lie._ He had no choice but to trust. Rolling a bit closer, Dean hovered over Sam's mouth. He could do this, he could. Closing his eyes, he went ahead and touched Sam's lips with his, tentatively. This mouth had hurt him last night. He licked across the seam of Sam's lips. The teeth behind them had bitten him. Dean pushed his tongue inside, past the teeth. This tongue had licked him in places it had no business. Dean started to move his tongue around, sweeping it across the roof of Sam's mouth, then tangling it with Sam's. With deliberate motions, he delivered the best fucking kiss he could give, using his lips, the slide of his tongue, sounds that emphasized the movements of his lips against Sam's. 

Sam held perfectly still, waiting for the kiss, lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes. This time, he was not disappointed. He had started out not touching Dean, but somewhere in all that he was unable to hold back any longer, raising one arm, wrapping it around the hunter, his hand going to the back of Dean's head, holding him there, digits tangling in the short soft strands as he kissed Dean back, tangled his tongue with the hunter's and licked at the roof of his mouth, the backs of his teeth, mapping out his mouth slowly, gently.... if he were not what and who he was some might even call it _lovingly_.

When the kiss finally ended, Sam's eyes slowly opened, a smile pulling at his lips, before he rolled, bounding off the bed and heading to the door, "I'll be back in just a few." Sam told him without looking back as he walked out, just the way he was, bare-assed naked.

Dean rolled onto his stomach, breathing hard, heart slamming against his chest. He'd just kissed Sam. He'd totally french kissed him, he'd gotten him hard, he'd fucking full on kissed his brother, and his brother liked it. _Oh God, let Jo get through to him. Please._

*

Sam returned a little later, walking into the room, door closing softly behind him before he walked over to the bed and got back in it. "Alright," Sam nodded, "so was it my turn now or yours?" he asked, quirking a brow. 

"What did she say?" Dean's eyes pleaded for an answer.

Sam frowned. "Is it _your_ turn?"

"Now it is," Dean grinned. They played this game often enough that he knew how to get the advantage. "What did she say, Sam?"

Sam drew in a slow breath and let it out, "She said that I am Sam." He shrugged a shoulder, "Wasn't very," he raised his hands out palms down in mid-air, wiggling his fingers, "revealing. Everyone knows who I am." Sam sighed as he laid back against the pillows. "Of course, I had to order her tongue removed for calling me Sam and not Samuel, but..." he shrugged a shoulder and rolled onto his side, a smile spreading across his face. "Will you kiss me again?" 

Dean felt like he'd been in the middle of nuclear blast. Shell shocked, and without time to think about it... about what he'd done to Jo, how it was his fault for bringing her to Sam's attention. "No. Not ever Sam. Not ever." Jo's image floated in his mind, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. 

Sam frowned, "Why not?" he asked, sounding offended. Pulling up to sit, Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. "I don't have to ask _you_ anything, you realize this don't you? If I want a kiss I can just damn well _take_ one!" his voice was growing louder with his anger as he glared harder, jaw clenching. The hunter may not know it, but he'd actually managed to _hurt_ Sam's feelings.

"It's not your turn." Dean sniffed. "Who taught you this game?" Raising his chin, he met Sam's gaze. At this moment, he hated him as much as he had when Sam had raped him.

 _Who taught him this game._ Sam's mind searched for the answer to that seemingly simple question. Frowning thoughtfully, Sam tore his gaze away from Dean. _'Who taught you this game?'_ Sam tried to put images of his father, Lucifer, in with the game, but they did not fit, tried to place other demons in that position and again, the images fell flat. Instead the remembered the scent of cookies and pine trees tickled his nose, of playing this game in bed at night when he was suppose to be asleep... but with _who_? Finally, Sam looked back at Dean, frowning angrily. "Doesn't matter!" he spat, "It's a stupid game anyway!"

"Ask me." There was silence. "Ask me who taught you this game," he insisted. "Sam ask me."

"No!" Sam yelled at him. "How could _you_ know!? _I_ don't even know!" he grit his teeth together tearing his gaze away from Dean as he shook his head. "It - I -" Sam blinked away the odd shadowy images that were like when he invaded another person's brain. "They're not my memories, someone must have just told me this story when I was little or... something... Meg," he nodded, "Meg probably thought it would be funny to tell me some little kids memories and I just-" he moved a hand, slicing it through the air in a angry exasperated gesture, "Just," he ran a hand through his hair, "It doesn't matter, it's just a game, just a child's game." 

"You fall asleep, and I win." Dean smiled, remembering it was how he'd put his younger brother to sleep at nights. "I taught you that. When we had each others' backs."

Sam's head jerked up, eyes narrowed into angry slits. "NO!" Sam shouted, raising his hand and sending Dean flying, then holding him there, up high against the wall as Sam pulled up and walked over to him, standing toe to toe with him. Jaw clenched, muscle twitching as he looked at the hunter, Sam's hand snaked out, gripping his jaw hard. "I don't know what game you are playing, but _I_ am _not_ the demon to be playing it with!" Sam snarled, wings unfurling from his back.

Should he push? It wasn't as if he could tell when Sam would tolerate something and when he'd punish. He tried to peel himself away from the wall, and couldn't. "You started it. The game. I just finished it." He was breathing hard, like he'd run a marathon. Something was working, something had made Sam remember.

Sam eyed Dean angrily a few more moments before he relaxed and took a step back, releasing his hold on the hunter, "So I did." Sam agreed, turning to walk over to the bed. "Enough with this talking bullshit, come get in my bed so I can take what I wanted when I first came in here... _before_ your request to _talk_." Sam looked over at Dean. "Unless you _want_ to do it against the wall."

"I don't _want_ to do it, period." He still hurt, though worse than his pains was the memories of what Sam did, he couldn't... he just couldn't accept it happened. "Balls in your court. Rape is rape." He wasn't stupid, he'd seen how much Sam liked the kiss, wanted another. He might take him by force, he _would_ , but his preference was to be adored.

"I'd rather have your balls in my mouth, but..." Sam licked his lips, letting his gaze travel over Dean's body. "Kiss me and I'll do something nice for you."

"You tore out my friend's tongue for no reason, you're not getting mine in your mouth, not if I can help it. Want me to get your ball and gag?" It wasn't that Dean was being brave, it was that he knew it was inevitable, and was trying to punch Sam below the belt, see where his soft underbelly was. The more he knew, the better.

"She was a friend of yours? Oh wait, all you hunters are friends.... or is it related?" Sam smirked and shrugged a shoulder as he looked over at the wall. "Grab the blindfold and the straps that I tossed back over there earlier too, would you?" 

"Why the blindfold?" Maybe it was better if he didn't see Sam's face. Dean grabbed it, the strap, and the gag that he'd hated so much. At least it would keep Sam's mouth away from his. Dropping them on the bed, he sat down, back to the headboard, and refusing to move anymore. He simply glared at Sam. Glared all his hatred and resentment at him.

Sam pressed his lips together as he looked at the hunter, brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Hmm... what is the term?... Oh right," he grinned at Dean. "You're beautiful when you're angry." Sam let the words from the old movie roll off his tongue, biting back a snort of laughter in the process as he patted the bed. "Come here to me, lay on your back, remember I want to see your face as you cum this time."

Dean just closed his eyes, he was done cooperating for now. First he started humming, then singing the words to "Dead or Alive."

_Im a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride  
I'm wanted dead or alive  
Wanted dead or alive_

A small, secret smile played on his lips. It had been the worst of times, and he and Sammy, they'd made themselves sing and laugh. He could do this... he could do it alone.

Sam frowned, "I'm -" he frowned harder, "What are you doing? Are you... _singing_!?"

_Sometimes you tell the day  
By the bottle that you drink  
And times when you're all alone all you do is think_

"Sing with me, you know the words," Dean said as he moved back into the chorus. _Remember. Please remember._

Sam made a face, "No, I.... _don't_." He reached for the gag and blindfold to pull them closer. "Well, in a second you're going to have to either hum it or sing it only in your head," Sam muttered, raising the blindfold to Dean's face, tying it in place, then reaching for the gag."

"Don't do this, _brother_." He made the same request again, then prepared to fight Sam. He just wanted it over fast, and he knew fighting him would get him aggressive, and then have him shooting his load much faster than he'd want. Like last time. And that's what he did, the instant the gag was brought close to his mouth, he started fighting, pushing Sam away, cursing him.

Sam grit his teeth grabbing Dean's wrists and pinning them down to the bed as he moved his body over the hunters, distributing his weight just like he'd been taught.... Again, that blank spot in Sam's mind irritated him, had him nearly as angry as Dean was making him. Soon it had him taking his anger out on the hunter, pinning him down with demonic power and slapping him hard across the face, first one way then the other, blood spewing from the hunter's mouth with each slap. Not that a demon cared, that Sam cared, he was not _just_ a demon, he was _thee_ demon. Lucifer's only son.

The pain was blinding. Sam's hand was heavy, and the way Dean was pinned in place, there was hardly any way to move with the force of the hits, which meant his face bore the brunt of it. _That's right, beat me senseless. I'd rather not feel what you're about to do._ "Bastard," he tried to incite Sam some more.

Sitting up, straddling Dean's hips, his wings opened wide against his back as he snagged up the restraints and started to use them to tie Dean to the bed, so that he wouldn't have to do it with TK, he could relax, not get so wound up, _enjoy_ himself. "Fucking human! Stupid fucking game! Song! Fucking talking!" Sam shouted, howled with anger.

As his arm was pulled roughly up, Dean fought, wriggling under Sam's weight, trying to pull his arm away. "Why stupid? Because you KNOW I'm right, I'm telling the truth. Because you're too much of a fucking coward to face it. You can make me bleed, you can break every bone, do what you want... the truth will still be there." As his arm was tugged so hard his shoulder was almost pulled out of it's socket, Dean grunted out his pain, tried to buck, to kick Sam off him.

Sam screamed in anger, bat-like demon wings bristling as he grit his teeth, grabbing the ball gag to shove into the hunters mouth and stop his words, words about things, areas of his mind that bore holes, places where there were no answers, parts of his life that he couldn't remember. He would ask Meg later, she would tell him, sooth him, remind him of his life, of the parts that she told him before had been destroyed when the hunters attacked their home when his father had risen.

"Shut up! Just shut up! You don't know anything! Don't know what happened to me! You weren't there when my father rose and you, others like you, attacked my home!" Sam yelled at him, his hands moving quickly to secure the bindings, then the ball gag into place.

Once he had finished, Dean was tied, arms spread wide, his legs pulled high in the air, knees nearly at his chest, blindfolded and gagged. Sam slowly pulled back, fighting to control his anger, to calm down, to not get overly worked up. Slowly he ran his hand over Dean's bared ass. "Not gonna fuck you right away, gonna make it last this time, gonna calm down and make this one better." Sam mumbled softly, only a trace of his anger remaining in his tone.

Every cell in Dean's body screamed at the position he'd been tied in. His oral screams were held in, stopped by the ball in his mouth. The only protest he could make was jerk his body around, try to anger Sam more, because the one thing he did not want was for this to... last. Right now, he didn't even know if he, Dean, wanted to last. Maybe ... maybe it would be best if he just slipped away, gave up, died. How was he supposed to come out of _this_ with any sense of himself left? How?

He choked on his own spit. He tried to hold his breath, to suffocate himself. God damned survival instinct... Goddamit.

Sam moved back, leaning over him, one hand palm flat against the bed, as he looked down at Dean's face. "Shshsh, it's okay," he cooed, dipping his head to Dean's neck, dropping tender soft kisses along the sensitive flesh. "I gotcha, gonna make it good this time. You'll like it too, trust me, Dean." Sam told him softly, between kisses, making his way downward, before lifting is head once more and moving back slightly, pulling his hand away from the bed as he did.

 _Fucker... give me back my brother._ He couldn't squirm away, couldn't avoid Sam's mouth. Didn't want it soft, wanted him to go at it like last time and just fucking get it over with. _And stop talking like Sam. You're not him. Stop._

Kneeling in front of Dean, Sam cupped his ass in both large hands, thumbs parting his cheeks as Sam dipped his head, dragging his tongue along Dean's crack, across his hole and pressing lightly, flicking against the sensitive skin. Rubbing his cheek against the globe of Dean's ass, eyes closed, Sam shushed him once again, speaking in soft comforting tones. "S' gonna be okay," he told him softly, before his tongue flicked out again, pressing harder against Dean's tightly puckered hole.

Dean prepared himself for the painful invasion, his stomach clenching in a tight knot as he felt his cheeks spread. The pain never came. Just a wet soft ... lick. Lick? Sam was licking his... Maybe that shouldn't cause the panic it did, but Dean was wildly moving his head from side to side. It disturbed him, confused him. He wished he could talk, could goad Sam into finishing instead of playing with him like this. It was crueler this way... much crueler.

"Shshsh," Sam told him softly as he pulled his head back just slightly. "Ya like that, hmm?" he leaned in again, pressing his tongue inside Dean's hot hole, thrusting his tongue into him and curling it, licking at him from the inside, his fingertips biting slightly harder into Dean's skin as Sam got more aroused, more into what he was doing, his tongue fucking in and out of his toy's ass, faster, harder.

No, no he did not like it. It was better than yesterday, better than the pain ... but he didn't want softness, didn't want comfort, and between talking to him like Sam would, and so far refusing to hurt him, and the sensory deprivation with his inability to see or talk, it just made Dean even tenser and more confused and on edge... waiting. "Mmmm" That's how his 'no" came out, and there was no stopping Sam, his wet tongue kept invading his ass, kept touching in ways he never should .

Sam smiled as he tongue fucked the hunter senseless, smiled at the sounds he made, sounds of pleasure that the man might not be wanting to make, but they were there all the same, and they were making Sam harder with each one that fell from the hunter's lips. He pulled one hand away, repositioning the one that remained, as he reached up and began to pump Dean's cock, his tongue thrusting into him at the same speed. "See how much better I can make it, Dean? _This_ can be the way it is _every_ time. All you have to do is not deny me," Sam told him softly between thrusts of his tongue, warm breath fanning the sensitive puckered skin.

No, no, no... the no's drowned out the yes' in his head, and yet Dean started to respond, started to move his hips, or wait for the next stroke of his cock, and the next, started to recognize the pattern of getting Sam's tongue in his ass followed by a stroke, almost in a fluid motion. His breaths were coming faster, too fast. He couldn't breathe out of his mouth, couldn't seem to get enough air from his nose. His head tossed side to side as whimpers left him. He hated Sam, hated him for this, for making him feel like this.

Sam continued to work the hunter, pumping him into full erection, his thumb smearing the precum that soon wept from the tip of his cock, his tongue never relenting in fucking his ass. Soon saliva was dripping, running down Dean's crack from Sam's wet thrusts, his tongue sinking in as far as possible as he flicked it inside of Dean.

After a long while, Sam finally pulled his head back, when his own cock was achingly hard, precum leaking steadily from the tip. "So beautiful, Dean." Sam told him softly as he leaned over him, one hand still pumping Dean's cock, now in slow long strokes meant to make him last as Sam used the other to align the blunt tip of his dripping cock with Dean's spit slick hole, slowly sliding into him with a long drawn out moan. He sucked in air through his teeth, "So good, feels so good..."

Dea had tensed, expected pain, and groaned when there was none. He was stretched as far as he could go, that much Dean knew. He was filled with Sam's cock, it was deep inside him. He was hearing Sam's groans of pleasure, and that shouldn't fucking arouse him, not at all, but when he was being pumped... how the fuck could he help it? Conflicting emotions and sensations barraged him. Lust, need, shame, denial, pleasure... no he didn't want this, didn't want it at all. A part of his soul was dying here... dying.

Sam ran his thumb over the tip of Dean's cock as he slowly pumped him, his hips slowly thrusting inside the hunter as he panted out his breaths. "Mmm... so tight, so good..." Sam murmured softly, dipping his head to press wet open mouthed kisses along Dean's neck as his hand continued to pump the hunter's cock, increasing steadily in speed and harshness, his thrusts matching each one.

Sam's wings lay against his back, completely unfurled, the tips brushing against the bed as he moved, his moans and groans of pleasure sounding against Dean's skin, muffled warm pants of air against the man below him. Sam lifted a hand, the one that wasn't on Dean's cock, reaching around the back of the hunter's head and unfastening the gag's ties. Letting the gag fall, Sam slanted his mouth over the hunters, kissing him hard, open mouthed, though his tongue never invaded Dean's mouth, only teased the edges, licking along his lips. 

"So good, wanna hear you, wanna hear you tell me how good it is, Dean. Know you like it, can _see_ and feel how much you do. Tell me, tell me that you like it. I want to hear you," Sam told him softly, his lips brushing against Dean's as he spoke. 

The sounds that broke from his lips once the gag was gone were not his. Dean tried to tell himself that, tried to deny Sam, tried to hold them back. He tried to remind himself that this was violating him just as much as last night, that it wasn't his fucking choice, that he did not want this, would never choose this.

All of that was true, but it didn't mean a damned thing when Sam had somehow gotten him into the firm grip of lust, when his body was clenching around his brother's cock, when his own was pulsing and aching... when his chest was tight, his panting growing faster and louder. "H... hate you... f... fuck you, oh God... fuck you... fuck you for this Sam, fuck you."

Sam chuckled softly against Dean's skin and nodded. "Yeah, I know..." he told him, pulling his head back, his thrusts harder and angled to hit that small bundle of nerves deep inside the hunter. "You can hate me all the way into bliss and back, Dean," he shook his head, panting his breaths, "doesn't change that you _wanted_ this too."

"No... don't... don't want this... get off. Off me," he rasped, even as his body craved more, even as he lifted his ass and hips as far as the bindings would allow. "Animal... you're--" Then his mouth was covered with Sam's again, and it was just as silencing as the gag had been. Half crying, half moaning in pleasure, Dean prayed for this to end.

Not having heard anything he liked coming from the hunter, Sam was kissing him again, kissing him hard with bruising force, and this time, his tongue pressed past his lips and teeth, mapping out his mouth as Sam moaned softly, his hips thrusting hard, hand pumping Dean's cock. Sam slowly drew his head back, breaths panting out against his swollen lips, "Cum for me, Dean. Wanna see you cum." 

 

As Sam's mouth worked against his mouth, silencing, brutally kissing, taking, Dean broke. He started to move faster, clench harder around Sam's cock, make him have to drag it out and push back, giving both of them as much stimulus as possible. He told himself it was to get this over with as soon as possible, but soon his cries were pleas for release, he was begging for it, for freedom from the terrible need building inside him, making him crazy... driving him to the edge. His balls drew up tight. He started to thrash. And then he was shouting his release, his mouth freed from Sam's so there was no muffling, no hiding, no masking his guttural cries, as he came hard, all over his own chest.

Sam watched Dean thrash, as he came hard, a loud low groan tearing from his throat as the hunters muscles clenched around his cock. He came hard in Dean's ass, filling him with his spunk, so much that it was leaking out, sliding out and smearing between them, running down Dean's thighs. With a grunt, Sam leaned over Dean, spent and limp, his arms holding his weight off the hunter. "Oh God..." he nodded, gasping in a breath, "so good, that was so good..." Sam told him, kissing him soundly on the lips, before pulling his cock from his ass and reaching up to release the bindings holding Dean's legs, so he could straighten them out on the bed.

Half falling onto the bed next to Dean, Sam reached for the ties to the blindfold and untied them, pulling it away as he gazed down into his face, "You _are_ beautiful," he told the hunter softly.

Beautiful. His brother's face was beautiful, but what had taken over on the inside? Dean gasped for air, eyes locked with Sam's, exhausted, body aching from the bindings and from having had Sam's cock deep inside him. Sam seemed to be looking at him like he expected something. Bet it wasn't this, but Dean really wanted to know. "You... you said 'oh God.' You believe in God? Why do you call his name?"

Sam frowned, the look of almost awe sliding off his face to replaced by one of confusion. _Why did you call his name? Do you believe in God?_ Sam's mouth opened only to close again as his frown grew darker. "Of course, I know there is a God," he huffed, "where do you think angel's come from Dean, Lucky Charms boxes!?" Sam snapped, only to end up frowning harder.

 _Lucky Charms box? What the hell was..._ Sam licked his lips slowly. "Uh, nevermind, I don't even know what that is," he rolled away onto his bac., "Musta heard it from some teenage punk deep in the pit or something." He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling for a moment, then looking over at Dean. "And I gave you a compliment, Dean." He looked back at the ceiling, jaw clenched, frowning hard.

Dean nodded. "You gave your slave a compliment, great, kudos to you. What do you want? A medal?" He turned and saw the anger in Sam's eyes, the black bleeding in. "Or this... this what you want?" He rolled over his 'master' and did what he'd promised he'd never do, kissed him. Covering his mouth, he forced his tongue inside, not at all meekly, not like a slave... he took Sam's mouth, tongue fucked it as his hands, both of them, went to the tops of Sam's wings and got a good grip. He moved his hands along their curves and back, feeling Sam shudder under him in either pain or pleasure... and now he'd learned sometimes the two were the same. 

Sam hadn't been sure what Dean was going to do, but _this_ had not even entered his mind. The forceful way Dean kissed him, had Sam moaning. His arms were nearly wrapped around Dean when he felt Dean's hands on his wings and Sam's eyes flew open, even with Dean's lips still crushed to his.

The pain that shot through him at the touch wasn't the kind you cried to your momma about, rather it was the kind that you begged for from some person dressed in black leather, carrying a whip and wearing heels that no demon in hell would be caught dead in. Sam's body started to shudder, to tremble, his cock thickening and lengthening even though they had just fucked, breaths panting out faster through flared nostrils.

Sam gripped Dean shoulders, torn between shoving him away or begging him never to let go. In the end, the thought that this hunter was likely not doing this for any feelings of lust or adoration for him, had Sam shoving him back. "Stop it! I told you never to touch those!" Sam yelled, though his breaths were still coming out in hot puffs, cheeks flushed as though he had been in the sun too long. 

Rolling flat onto his back, one hand on his own chest where he probably wore Sam's handprint from being pushed so hard, he turned his head. "Wanna hear you, wanna hear you tell me how good it is, Sam. Know you like it. Tell me, tell me that you like it. I want to hear you," Dean mocked, using Sam's own words against him. 

Sam glared at Dean for a long moment in silence as he weighed his next move, his next words. Slowly Sam rolled toward Dean, laying so that his body trapped the hand Dean had on the bed, his own hand going to the hand Dean had on his chest, pinning it to Dean's body. His eyes narrowed as he spoke in a low voice. "Yes, I liked it," his black eyes searched Dean's face. "Too bad you don't have the balls to do anything about it."

"Taught you something you didn't know, didn't I?" Dean's eyes challenged Sam to lie. "Little brother doesn't like to be in control as much he thought he did."

Sam huffed as he pulled back, "Figures." He sat up in the bed sliding away to lean against one of the end posts. "I should have your tongue removed for the way you speak to me. Could force you to eat it after," Sam told him, eyes narrowed. "And don't think that it would bother me," his gaze slid over Dean, "you don't need a tongue for me to fuck you."

"No, but you'll never be kissed like that again, not by me... not by anyone, and you fucking know it." Was he afraid? Hell yeah. Sam was unpredictable, but Dean needed to know how far he could go, what his weak points were, and how else he might crack into Sam's memories. For that, they needed to connect on many levels, be it positive or negative. 

Sam licked his lips slowly as he eyed Dean. "Maybe," he took a breath, crossing his arms over his chest, "Or I can have any demon or human I chose. Meg _usually_ does a good job at finding _my type_ ," his eyes narrowed, "I guess she was blinded by the looks thing, didn't get to the interview section." He gave a sarcastic tilt of his head.

"Or maybe she tested the goods." Dean didn't add any new fuel to the fire, but he deflected, hoping the new tangent would get him out of any trouble he'd been in, and maybe put the bitch demon in his place. He wanted to say more about their childhood or last years, but managed to shut his mouth. 

Sam's eyes narrowed. "She wouldn't _dare_..." he said softly, there was a dark and menacing tone to his voice that Sam normally only had when he was inflicting torture, his eyes deep black pits his wings unfurled from his back to full span.

"Right, Azazel's daughter wouldn't dare," he nodded quickly in agreement. "Can I have a shower?" He didn't dare look in Sam's eyes, the single glimpse had shown him a coldness that was too hard to bear.

Sam started to laugh. "You think _I_ am afraid of Azazel's daughter?" he laughed harder, "Or even Azazel himself!?" Sam scoffed, "Some ridiculous hunter killed that incompetent idiot." He shook his head slowly, "My father may have trusted him, may have held him in high regard, but I never had any use for the demon. Good riddance to bad rubbish if he can't even kill an ignorant hunter." Sam eyed Dean, " _I_ will bathe you."

"The hell you will." The words were out before he could stem them. "I mean why? It's a... a menial thing ... for the menial demons." _And for the record, I killed that bastard._

Sam's lips curved slowly into a smile. "Because you will protest and claim to hate it, that's why," he shrugged a shoulder, "and it amuses me to watch you squirm." Sam's smile turned into something more lustful as he quirked a brow, but left his words at that.

Dean nodded. What the hell could he say to that. He'd been a source of amusement, his pain, his humiliation, the tearing down of all sorts of walls, it had been amusing. Giving up for now, he lay back, pulling the sheets up his body until 'Grand Master Sammy' had new orders for him. Right now, he would dwell on some of the successes of the day... or night... or whatever.

Sam sat silently watching his new toy, some of the tension leaving him, his eyes bleeding back to hazel, wings folding back and disappearing from view. This one was so not like any of the others. Most would cower before him and kneel humbly at his feet, never raising their voices, other than in their screams... this one however did nothing but shout, normally not in pain or pleasure, but usually _at_ him!

And then there were there the things that he said, that he asked, about things in Sam's mind, in his memories that had been wiped out, erased. Meg had told him that it happened when his father rose from the pit. A band of hunters had stormed into hell and raided the place, killing demon after demon. They had been unprepared to be attacked in hell and in the fight, Sam had been injured, his head nearly bashed in...

Meg told him he was lucky to have not died from the blow, that a little memory loss was nothing. She always assured him that one day, it would all come back to him, all those huge gaps in time, his forgotten childhood and youth. Yes, she promised him every time he went to her, that it _would_ one day all come back...


	3. Chapter 3

Dean lost all sense of time. All he knew was there were bad times, where he goaded Sam so much he was battered and hurt, fucked to an inch of his life... though he knew that wasn't true. He had this idea that even Sam didn't know why he wouldn't kill him, just get rid of him. Why he let him keep his tongue when he was disrespectful, his hand when he deliberately did things he'd been commanded not to, and about his refusal to call Sam, 'master.' Then there were better times, when Dean would be less combative, and Sam would ease into a good mood. Sam really seemed to like being kissed, and Dean gave or withheld his kisses, depending on which he thought would keep Sam offguard, make him talk, make him listen. One thing he never did was admit it if he liked anything Sam did to him, he always made it clear it was against his will... and that seemed to anger Sam.

Today, today Dean was going to be more than nice. See what that would do to the resident evil. So when the door opened, Dean stretched across the soft sheets and looked Sam. "You're late. I don't even need a watch to know it."

Sam frowned at Dean as he entered a soft huff escaping his lips. "What, am I on a timer now? You need to have my cock in your ass by a certain time or..." he started, as he closed the door and turned walking toward the bed. Sam tilted his head as he looked at Dean, "or what? You get all..." his gaze traveled over Dean, noting that he wasn't hiding under the covers as though Sam had never seen him naked before, sure the sheets were twisted around his legs a little like maybe he's been rolling around in the bed, but they weren't up to his damn chin like some sacrificial virgin either, and the look on Dean's face, nearly calm, peaceful... 

Sam narrowed his eyes, "What did you do?" he asked, his tone accusatory. Sam's gaze left Dean to dart about the room looking for _whatever_ it was that Dean had done, or whatever booby-trap he'd tried to set up. Probably a damn ass plug would blow up in his face later or some damn thing. 

Accusing narrowed hazel eyes landed back on Dean after a moment. "I'll figure it out," he nodded, "Don't think I won't, and when I do, this time I really will have your tongue removed, or," he waved a hand with a huff as he plopped down on the side of the bed, "a hand or foot or _something_ ," he grumbled, reaching for the fastenings of his pants as he shook his head. _Damned hunter anyway..._

"That's _still_ not funny." Dean rolled over to Sam's side of the bed, sat up next to him, and without asking permission, pushed Sam's hands away and started to undo his leather pants for him. "I didn't do anything, just got bored, mostly. No one talks to me except you." He let his hand brush against Sam's cock, and looked into his eyes to gauge his mood. Sometimes he came in angry and took it out on him, and if that was the case, he needed to know now.

Sam frowned as Dean brushed his hands out of the way, sure that it was his way of stalling or preventing him from taking his pants off altogether. His gaze rose to Dean's face then went back to his hands on the button and fly of his leather pants, still frowning in confusion. "What are you doing?"

It was still unclear in Sam's mind what all this was about, even as Dean's hand brushed his cock. Sam was totally confused as to _why_ and exactly _what_ was going on. If the demon didn't know better, he would think perhaps his heart had skipped a beat due to fear, but demons weren't afraid... of anything. No, it had to be something else... lust maybe?

Looking at Dean, Sam sat frowning for a few moments before raising a hand to the side of Dean's face and leaning in their lips nearly touching. "No one else is _allowed_ to talk to you," he told him softly, leaning in the rest of the way and letting his lips brush Dean's.

"And why is that?" Dean asked, managing to straddle Sam's hips and sitting on his lap, without ever moving his face away.

Sam's brow was still creased with a frown, his gaze darting around them, then back at Dean, before settling on his lips, a small smile pulling at his own then. "Because I forbid it."

"Jealous?" Dean asked, tracing Sam's lower lip with the tip of his tongue, then kissing it lightly.

Sam frowned and pulled his head back. "Me!? Jealous!? What do _I_ have to be jealous about!?" he frowned harder, darker, demonic bat-like wings bristled behind him. So _this_ was it, this was the hunter's game, pretend to be nice and then start with insults, cut-downs. Sam's eyes slowly bled to black, "I could have your tongue cut out for saying that." Sam told him tensely, his gaze rivited on Dean's lips as his tongue darted out to trace the same path along his bottom lip that the hunter's tongue had taken.

"Yes, you could. But what a waste. All I wanted to know was if the reason they aren't aloud to talk to me is because you're jealous, want to keep me only for you." He tried to forget Sam's eyes had gone black, and leaned in and kissed him, slowly... pushing his tongue inside and tangling it with Sam's, but pulling it back out before the kiss got too heated. 

"I want -" Sam started, but then Dean was kissing him and all train of thought left other than how good the hunter tasted, how soft and warm his lips were, how wonderful his tongue felt tangling with Sam's own. Slowly, Sam's arms moved to circle Dean, wrapping around him lightly as he kissed him back, wanted to make it deeper, keep it burning until it was out of control, but the hunter pulled back too soon, far too soon.

"Why are you angry?" As he leaned in to kiss Sam's ear, he slipped past it and made contact with the edge of his wing too.  
He laughed, "tickles... those are actual feathers." By the time he straightened, and from the tenseness he felt radiating toward him, he wondered if he was going to be allowed to keep his head.

 _Because I don't 'get' you, don't understand you. You do and say things I don't expect, at times that I don't expect. You change from one moment to the next, but not in the way of a demon, it's different and it's unrecognizable and it..._ Sam frowned at the direction his own thoughts were going, then stilled, stiffening, muscles going rigid as he felt the hunter's lips at his wing. His entire body was locked, tense, he would tell Dean to stop to not touch him there, but he couldn't seem to work the muscle in his jaw, to get it to move, couldn't form the words on his tongue, his eyes wide as he sat there, waiting... for what he didn't even know. 

Searching Sam's face, and finding only bewilderment in his expression, Dean decided he liked it. Moving suddenly, he cupped Sam's head and fitted his mouth over Sam's, moving it from side to side as he thrust his tongue into his brother's mouth, this time exploring every corner, tangling with Sam's tongue but refusing to let Sam lead the kiss. He controlled the pace, the depth, groaning against Sam and slipping up his thighs to writhe against him. Just as he deepened the kiss, he used his pinky to do what was forbidden, to stroke Sam's wings, right where they joined his back.

As Dean suddenly moved, cupping his head and slanting his mouth over his, Sam made a small surprised sound that was muffled and swallowed up in the kiss. His eyes were open wide for the first few moments of the kiss before Sam relaxed into it moaning softly as he kissed Dean back, fought to gain control of the kiss, brow furrowing when it seemed that Dean wasn't going to allow it. He wasn't pulling away though, and he wasn't being an ass about it, so Sam relented and allowed his slave a little leeway, what could it hurt after all to allow it, it wasn't as though Sam was not enjoying it.

Moaning into the kiss, likely more than the average person would have, Sam wrapped his arms tightly around Dean, fingertips digging into the flesh of his back, holding him close, then closer as Dean slid forward. Sam's cock was hard and pearling with precum already as it lay pressed between them against his stomach.

And then, _it_ happened... Sam's eyes flew open as soon as his wings were touched, so close to his spine. A ripple of intense pleasure shot through Sam making him shudder, his eyes closing as he groaned long and loud. Squeezing his eyes closed as his hips bucked, he came, hot spunk smearing between them. It wasn't a hard orgasm and it wasn't huge, but just that touch had sent so much pleasure shooting through Sam, up his spine and along his nerves, that he had cum.

Tearing his mouth from Dean's, Sam looked away, head hanging. "That's Enough!" he ground out through clenched teeth.

Dean didn't know which of them was more shocked. His hand slipped between them, covering Sam's wet cock. "Sorry... I'm sorry..." His stomach clenched, his heart beat out of control. He knew Sam hated to come fast. Knew that Sam had been onto his game, knew how he'd sometimes do whatever it took to get Sam off quick instead of helping him last. "It wasn't... I didn't meant to. Shit, I'm dead, right?" he asked, wondering what Sam's weapon of choice would be. He started to lift off his lap, his legs a bit shaky.

Sam looked back, a mere peek, as though he didn't want to see what he had done. "No, I - it..." he huffed, pulling away from Dean and swinging his legs off the bed. Pulling to his feet, Sam reached for one of the small towels and wiped himself clean. "There are more, if you need..." Sam spoke over his shoulder, though he didn't really look back, kept his back turned to Dean as he reached for his pants and headed to the door, pulling them on as he went, hopping on one foot then the other when he had to, as if something were chasing him from the room.

Walking out, Sam slammed the door behind him. He wouldn't return again that night.

"Okay now... that was weird." Dean stared at the door. Why hadn't he figured out sooner he could get Sam off with just a slight movement? Then again, maybe before they'd formed this... some sort of bond... it might have lead to his instant death. He thought about Sam's reaction, the way he ran out that door instead of administering punishment. The way he'd barely looked his way when most of the time Dean felt like Sam was devouring him with his eyes. Embarrassed. Sam was embarrassed. Everything else they'd done, everything that he, Sam had done to Dean, and _this_ was what embarrassed him? Reaching for a towel, Dean fell backward onto the bed, laughing his head off.

* * *

Sam walked into his room the next night and after closing the door, closing out the screams of torment and horror that lurked just beyond his bedroom walls, he walked directly over to the wall where the bondage and sexual implements hung grabbing a set of handcuffs, before he even looked toward the bed to see what Dean was doing or if he was watching him.

Walking toward the bed, Sam started to unfasten his pants. "Arms raised above your head." It was the only thing he said to the hunter, tearing his gaze away once more.

Dean blanched. "Why?" The single word hanged between them.

Sam stood next to the bed as he finished unfastening his pants and pushed them down, stepping out of them, his narrowed gaze going to the hunter. "Because I said so, that's why."

Dean was afraid, and the fear went to his very core. "Please." Resenting Sam, but acting on hopes of self preservation, he wrapped his arms around Sam's waist and leaned his face against his abs. "I don't want this, I don't want to be tied. Please."

Sam stared down at him for a few moments, warring with himself over his next move, what he should do as apposed to what he _wanted_ to do. He _wanted_ to take the hunter into his arms and kiss him hard to roll with him in the bed and fuck him until he didn't even remember his own name. What he _should_ do is remember what happened before, how the hunter liked to play him and how he would, by any means necessary, make this get over with quickly. Had he not proven that just last night? 

In the end, what he _needed_ to do won out. "Don't - don't touch me." Sam told him softly. "You're not," he licked his lips, one hand going to Dean's head, long fingers tangling in the short soft strands, "you're not in trouble, just - just don't touch me." He gave a nod, "it's better that way. I'm sure you're relieved," he looked past him at the bed, frowning. "But, I still want to have sex, so the best way is if you are bound. I'm sorry," Sam told him, his fingers trailing softly, gently through Dean's hair. It was an unconscious action.

Dean hadn't realized he was crying, not until the tears started to roll off his face and hit his arm and thigh. He wasn't even sure why he was crying. So many fucking reasons. He hadn't done anything wrong... wasn't in trouble. He didn't want this. He wanted his brother back. He wanted to feel connected and there was nothing less connected and more dehumanizing then being bound against your will. He let his arms slip off, and pushed Sam away.

He wouldn't look up, he wasn't gonna fight, but he wasn't gonna help. Let him see what it would be like to be with a wet noodle.

Sam sighed as he watched Dean move away and shook his head, jaw clenched. Why was it that the sight of this human, this hunter crying made him upset, made him sad, made him _want_ to make it better? How very _un_ demonic was _that_!? His father would throw him into the deeper regions of the pit if he ever even thought that Sam was thinking like that... and why the hell was he thinking that the hunter's hair shouldn't smell like the vanilla oils he liked his slaves bathed in, but rather should smell like... A brand name popped in Sam's head unbidden and without his knowledge of what it was. 

Sam moved to sit down on the edge of the bed frowning, the cuffs, at least for the time being, forgotten as he sat thinking, trying to remember. "Dean?" Sam asked, his voice soft, unsure, as he licked his lips. Slowly he turned his head to look at the hunter. "What is Old Spice?"

At first, Dean wasn't going to answer him at all. Wasn't going to talk. But the question was too important for him to save his pride by giving Sam the silent treatment. "I used to steal it off the 24 Hour Quickie Mart shelves. My cologne," he said, wiping his face, then looking up at Sam. "Covered up the smell of gunmetal and oil when I went out on dates."

Sam raised his head, brows rising at the same time in an 'oh' fashion, but didn't say anything as he nodded and looked away, down at the bed, still frowning. Reaching a hand up, Sam rubbed his forehead thoughtfully, the index and middle finger of his hand running over the scar just in his hairline. It was hard to see, hidden well just at his hairline, his long bangs covering it. The scar was from when he had nearly been killed, when the hunters had attacked just after Lucifer had Risen from hell.

Frowning, Dean moved across the bed and grasped Sam's jaw, using his free hand to push his hair up off his forehead. His frown deepened. Parting Sam's hair, he grew more disturbed by what he saw. 

Sam's own frown remained on his face as he looked at Dean. "Why did that just pop into my head?" he shook his head, "I don't even know what it is," he asked him, unsure, confused, and _maybe_ a little frightened.

"Because you're remembering reality. Don't say it... I don't wanna hear, you don't believe me, again. Fucking hurts too much, alright? Just... just don't." He caressed the straight white scar one more time, then sat back, deep in thought. That was no injury. "So... when did you get a surgery?"

It had been on the tip of Sam's tongue to tell Dean that _he_ was the one not dealing in reality, that _this_ was reality. Not that he thought it had anything to do with odd things popping into his head. But he didn't, he swallowed the words with a sigh, and _no_ it wasn't because some damn hunter told him to. "Surg-?" his hand went to the scar, fingertips rubbing over it. "Oh, that." Sam huffed, "It wasn't a surgery, I was nearly killed when _you people_ attacked our home as soon as my father rose. One of the demons, he sewed it up for me Meg said," he shrugged a shoulder. "She said had it not been for him I would have died."

"Meg said this, Meg said that," he muttered. Reaching out, he grabbed Sam's hand, making him point. He dragged Sam's finger over a scar he had on his arm, then one on his side, then one across his thigh. "These... these are battle scars. Jagged, uneven." Taking Sam's finger to follow the smooth line of the scar in his hairline, Dean dropped his hand. "That's not a battle scar. That was put there by a scalpel."

Sam frowned and shook his head. "Just because it doesn't look like a butcher sewed it, doesn't make it not from my injury. Meg wouldn't lie about that. Besides, ask any demon here, they all know the story. Anyway, it doesn't matter," he muttered, turning more toward Dean. "Now, where were we?"

Sam wasn't stupid, he understood what Dean was trying to say, but he also knew the things he knew, and one was, he was Lucifer's son, there is no way that someone would have performed surgery on him and not told him. If he had been unconscious from the attack and it happened, Meg would have said so, if it had been before that, he would remember it. _But aren't there huge chunks in your life that you can't remember? You can't even remember who your mother was. You know nothing about your childhood._ Sam pushed away his troubling thoughts, trying to occupy his confused mind with something more enjoyable.

"You were wondering why I don't smell right. You were thinking I should smell like Old Spice," Dean answered warily, making his point, and not about to remind Sam of the plan he'd been derailed from, at least temporarily. "Maybe you should tell your minions to give me some, instead of that girly vanilla stuff."

Sam shook his head. "I don't want to talk about that anymore, don't want to think about it. Want to think about _you_ ," he told Dean as he moved, slipping across the silken sheets closer to him and throwing a leg over Dean's as he half laid on him, his mouth near Dean's, his gaze going to Dean's mouth. "Kiss me."

"Can't. I'm not allowed to touch you," he answered, his eyes shining with the heat of rebellion, but under that was another fire. He liked kissing Sam. Yesterday, he'd liked being in control, making him moan, making him cum. He licked his lips and lowered his gaze.

Sam gave a teasing smile. "You can kiss me," he licked his lips as his gaze flickered from Dean's lips to his eyes and back, "Do. Kiss me."

Hands on the bed, he leaned forward and slanted his mouth across Sam's, kissing him gently, almost lovingly. He hadn't liked seeing that scar. He'd loved knowing Sam remembered his smell. If only they could connect somehow, if Sam could remember. As he mused and wished, he sucked Sam's lower lip into his mouth first, then did the same to his upper lip. Sealing his kiss with a lick across Sam's mouth, he pulled back. 

Sam's eyes slowly opened, a smile spreading across his face as he looked at Dean. "Thank you," he told him softly as he slid more onto Dean. "My turn," Sam said a second before he slanted his mouth over Dean's his tongue running over first Dean's bottom lip, then the top, pressing into his mouth and running along his teeth, the roof of his mouth. He tangled his tongue with Dean's then pulled Dean's tongue into his mouth and suckled it for a long moment before releasing it and tongue fucking his mouth, only to once more tangle their tongues together, his head sliding side to side as he kissed him hard, teeth knocking together.

"Mmm... mmme," a few groans were drawn out of Dean as their tongues slid together and Sam got a little rougher. After letting Sam have his way, he started to chase Sam's tongue, inside Sam's mouth, to catch it, to master it, control it. Without realizing it, he rolled over Sam, one inch at a time, working his mouth over Sam's and wresting control. He broke the kiss, took a deep breath, and brought his mouth down hard over Sam's. He held his weight up by pressing his palms down on the bed, didn't touch Sam, other than with the weight of his body resting on him, but he kissed the hell out of him, like he meant it, like he wanted to find the soul buried deep in Sam's body.

Sam moaned into the kiss, hands rising to fist in the hunter's short hair as he mindlessly followed the hunter's tongue chasing it, doing anything just to be able to continue this, this was what he wanted. He hadn't even realized that he was now the one on his back, laying _under_ his slave. Just continued to return the kiss, giving as good as he got, his cock twitching and pulsing between them, aching for attention.

Sam's hips thrust upward, his cock against Dean's as a groan tore from his throat, his back arched slightly as wings started to unfurl out from behind him in his arousal. He lowered his back once more after his wings were splayed out to their full span against the cool silk sheets.

Dean's mouth had slipped off Sam's when Sam rose, and he had a clear view of the black as midnight wings sliding out of his spine and opening up, reminding him a little of the way his own dick reacted to Sam, a response that he couldn't control. Sam's wings were like that, only they appeared in response to other strong emotions as well. He felt the weight of a stare, and looked down and saw Sam's forbidding expression. It didn't just _say_ 'don't touch'... it screamed the warning on 'pain of death.'

Without acknowledging the warning, he lowered his head and kissed Sam's throat, then chest, licking and teasing first one nipple, then the other. He wasn't gonna think too hard about enjoying it, he didn't need the guilt. He'd suffered enough so what if once every few times he actually felt only pleasure rather than pleasure coupled with fear, or horror, or guilt, or pain? Wait... he was in a position to inflict it now. The thought made him smile, though he wondered how far he'd get.

For 'insurance,' he sat up and lifted up, adjusting Sam's cock so his tip rubbed against his ass. Lube would have been nice, but he'd been assaulted so many times without it that he knew he could take the pain. Biting his lower lip, he forced himself down over Sam's cock. So hard, so fucking big, it nearly brought tears to his eyes but he stubbornly let his weight down and took all of him inside. He fell forward, hands on Sam's waist and chest as he started to rock, eyes locked with Sam's for a few moments, his breaths coming out in gasps and groans. Then he dropped lower suddenly, biting Sam's nipple as he fucked down harder... felt him shuddering... expected ... he didn't know what to expect.

Sam closed his eyes briefly as Dean sank down on his hard aching shaft, taking him deep into his hot tight hole. A low groan worked it's way out from deep in Sam's throat as he gazed up at the hunter, his hands moving to run over his body, caressing, exploring, mapping out his flesh as Sam's hips started to move, thrusting his cock into Dean's tight ass. Sam bit his lip as he moved, moans spilling from between parted lips, his wings under him bristling against the bed like a trapped bird. His head tilted to the side where it lay on the pillow as he continued to gaze up at the hunter. Hazel eyes tracked him as he leaned over, then closed as he felt Dean's hot breath fanning the skin of his chest. When Dean bit his nipple, Sam gasped in a breath, back arching into it, his entire body shuddering as his hands gripped onto Dean's hips hard, lips parting, his wings shifting against the bed. "I can't," he licked his lips as he opened his eyes, "you shouldn't do that."

Groaning, Dean pulled himself up, looking down at the large hands gripping him so hard there would be bruises. Yet he hadn't been smacked, hadn't been thrown off, hadn't been punched. His eyes went to Sam's. His brother didn't like enjoying this, didn't like it one bit... how ironic was that? "Why not... you liked it. Your cock is harder, I feel it... you're fucking me harder... you want it," he nodded, his gaze sliding to Sam's wings then back. "You know you do."

Sam's neck arched as he thrust his hips harder upward, his cock into Dean's ass. "Mmm, not..." he sucked in air through his teeth, pulling on Dean, pulling him downward to lay on him, "very," his lashes fluttered as he lifted his head to meet the hunters mouth, "demonic," he finish in a breath of air before his lips crushed against Dean's.

It was too hard to laugh when you were getting fucked within an inch of your life, but Dean would have if he could. This was about saving face? About reputation? About how it might look if people... demons knew that Sam allowed him to be less than submissive, that he liked it when Dean took control... within limits? Course he was also thinking that if this was un-demonic, then he better give Sam as much of it as possible.

He opened his mouth for Sam's tongue and pretty much rode it like he was riding his cock, hard and fast. Dean lost all sense of time and place, concentrating on moving his hips in a way that had Sam's cock dragging over that spot deep inside him that wreaked havoc with his system, made him feel like he was on the verge of climax. He pulled his head back and tangled his tongue with Sam's, outside their mouths, intentionally frustrating him... having the nerve to tease him like that, and then cupping his cheek and bringing his mouth down hard in a fierce, intense kiss, that didn't leave Sam in any doubt as to who was the 'master' of the moment.

They were fucking so hard, even this enormous and heavy bed started to make sounds as it banged into the wall. Their groans were intermingled, they shared each others' breaths and were in complete synch. Dean suddenly used his hands braced against the mattress to raise himself up and move up and down the length of Sam's cock with far more control. He was close... so fucking close... and he could tell Sam was too. For once, he looked... really looked at Sam while they were having sex, and he swore he could see something of his brother, his gentler side... despite the grunts and demands, despite the fact that his moods were mercurial and while Sam could be calm and accepting now, in another instant he might throw him against the wall.

"You're beautiful, right now," he said thickly when he saw he had Sam's attention. "Love you. Love you Sam... please remember me, love you so much, always," he chanted, swallowing hard.

The look of intense pleasure slowly slid off Sam face, enough to make him able to frown, his brows to furrow, his forehead to crease as he looked up at the hunter. Pushing up into a sitting position, one arm wrapped tightly around Dean to help him continue to move and steady him as they fucked, the other against the mattress, Sam shook his head. "There is no such thing as love, only this, only now, Dean."

He slanted his mouth over the hunter's before he could argue, delving his tongue deep as he took from the hunter what he needed. Kissing him as hard as they were fucking into one another, trying to drown out Dean's words echoing in his head. Love. What is 'love'. Sam had never seen an act or heard a heart that actually truly knew it's meaning. Sure some thought they did, but not really, not when it came down to it, they would not die for another person, would not devote their lives to another person, would not hold them above all else, not solely, not when it really mattered. Love. It was just a human word, that rang as empty as the souls in hell.

The sudden intensity of Sam's kisses and the strength with which he was being fucked took Dean's breath away. He couldn't think or formulate words to counter Sam's declaration, even if his mouth weren't being devoured. Sliding closer, he managed to lock his legs around Sam's back and throwing his arms around his broad shoulders, he moved with him, harder, faster, one step closer to release, then another. 

The sounds breaking from Sam fanned the flames of his need. Dean wanted to come so bad. His mouth slid off Sam's, he kissed his throat, then his shoulder, his teeth marking Sam. Through lust blown pupils, he saw Sam's wings... extending... tempting... tried to ignore them, tried his best. Fuck... his fingers itched to touch them, to make Sam come on command. "Lemme touch them, your wings... lemme... Sam."

Sam's lips were pressed hard together, breaths panting out through flaired nostrils as he grit his teeth, feeling heat spiraling down through his body pooling low in his belly when Dean's request drew his attention. "Huh? Wha?" he shook his head, "No... can't... too much..." he panted, moaning, his head tilting back as his lips parted, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Moaning, Dean gripped and massaged Sam's shoulders as his balls started to draw up against his body. "Please... Goddamit... please," he was jerking hard against Sam, and then he just went for it. 

Sam's bottom lip was caught between his teeth, eyes squeezed tightly closed as his balls started to draw up. He shook his head, the only answer he could give the hunter's demands at the moment.

 _Fuck it._ One hand, then both went to Sam's soft wings, stroking them, feeling Sam's reaction and shouting his own release, as he mercilessly kept petting the wings, eyes laser focused on Sam's face as he forced him to come with him.

Sam's eyes flew open as he lifted his head, stunned hazel eyes looking into green as his wings were beyond touched, they were manhandled. His body shook, hips jumping erratically as he thrust, his body nearly convulsing as his lips parted, Sam's hand moved from the mattress, arm wrapping around Dean, just before he fell back on the bed, his body shuddering and writhing as he came hard in Dean's ass. "Aaauugh! Aaauugh! Oh Fuck!" Sam held onto the hunter tighter as he rode out the intense orgasm, eyes squeezed tightly closed. He clenched his teeth, face flushed, as he kept cumming.

"That's it ... oh God... that's it, come... come for me, that's it... that's good Sammy... good," as Dean kept encouraging Sam, his own second ejaculation took him by surprise. Slamming his mouth down over Sam's, he kissed and fucked, his entire body humming and buzzing... so fucking alive, he wasn't sure that he'd be sorry if once this was over, Sam killed him. 

As waves of heat were slowly replaced by calm, Dean whispered, "even if you don't love me, I just gave you your _now_." He stroked Sam's wing one more time, very lightly and only with his thumb, then leaned over him and kissed once lightly.

Sam lay panting, looking up at the hunter, an expression of shock and surprise on his face. Sam gulped in air, swallowed and let out a breath, licking his lips, before his head rolled to the side, eyes closing momentarily as he raised a hand to run it over his face. Rolling his head and looking back up at Dean he shook his head. "You," he cleared his throat, his voice sounding to raw and hoarse, "you shouldn't have done that."

"Why?" Pulling up so Sam was no longer inside him, Dean collapsed back on top. "Cause you said so? Brothers never listen and they take each others' things. Know what else? They forgive each other." He shifted so his face was over Sam's. "So forgive me, brother, I couldn't help myself." His mouth was a hair's breath away from Sam's, and maybe that was the distance he was from death too. Ball was in Sam's court, again.

Sam's eyes narrowed as he looked up at Dean, hazel locking with green. "I am _not_ your brother." He tore his gaze away and licked his lips. "I don't have a brother. Lucifer only had one child, a son," he looked back at him, "me."

"Who is your mother? Why can't you remember your birth? You know demons use vessels... what the fuck makes you think you're either not in my brother's body, or there's something different about you? And why... why did someone give you a lobotomy... or something close to it?" 

Sam frowned harder, hazel eyes slowly bleeding to black, wings bristling on the bed behind him. "My _mother_ is of no concern to you. As for my birth," he tilted his head, "do you remember _yours_?" his lips curled into an unamused smile before falling once more. "This is _my_ body! _That_ I know and I _remember_! I told you about the scar, you and your kind tried to destroy my home!" He shoved Dean off and rolled away from him, swinging his legs off the side of the bed as he sat up. "I think we're finished here."

"Are we?" Dean pulled the sheets over him and stared at Sam. "I remember your birth. I remember the night Azazel killed our mother and set our house on fire. I remember dad throwing you in my arms, and us getting out of there. I remember us fighting demons, you and me, until the end... then you were tricked. I remember the amulet you gave me when we were kids, one I never took off until... they took it from me. I love my brother, and you think I would call you my brother, you think I would defile my memories of him with a lie? Think about that when you're out there," he jerked his chin toward the door, "torturing helpless people and souls."

Sam sat listening to the hunter spew garbage with his head bowed, eyes closing as he blocked it all out, all of it, the nonsense like whitenoise in the background... until he mentioned the amulet. Sam's eyes flew open and he sucked in a breath of air, feeling as if he'd just been punched in the stomach... _if_ he were human anyway. Flashes of memories danced before his eyes; the smell of pine, the Lucky Charms box being tilted and cereal being poured, flashed in his mind. Christmas lights and a small boy, brother, sat near him on an old tattered couch as they looked at the delapadated tree that had been found, stolen and decorated haphazardly by small hands. No, it wasn't real, it was all just an illusion, a trick. His father was the father of lies, and this was a lie! It had to be!  
But it didn't hold any of the tarnish of a lie, none of the bitterness and evil of a lie...

Sam pulled to his feet, reaching for his pants. "You can get that bathing you enjoy so much," he told Dean softly, voice rough and husky with emotions he was fighting back. Emotions that didn't belong to him, didn't belong to a _demon_ , and didn't belong to a being that had not lived them.

"Thank you." It was the first time those words had slipped past Dean's teeth. He could see his brother, he could see Sam peeking through. _Meet me half way Sam, I'm right here. Do anything for you ... just meet me half way._

Sam nodded as he slid his pants on, before he looked back over his shoulder at Dean, hazel eyes wet with unshed tears. " _If_ I believed in," he paused trying to find the words, "human things," he nodded but let his sentence trail off as he looked away, sniffling softly. Turning Sam walked toward the door, head hanging, pausing as he reached it, hand on the knob, Sam looked up, his eyes on the door before him. "And _if_ I had a brother, you would have made a good one. Your Sam is lucky to have you." With that he slipped from the room.

Dean had thought Sam recognized him, that he would admit it... but this, this was closer than he'd ever gotten. He let out a breath and as he waited for his bath, mentally going over everything he'd said and done, each of Sam's reactions, filing away the things that had drawn the greatest reaction out of him. Maybe next time he saw Sam, his brother would be softened up enough to talk more, and have less sex.

No, he was not going to answer his own subconscious' question, 'is that really a good thing?'

* * *

Dean had lied and told the demons that Sam said he could keep the tub in here, so he was still enjoying a nice hot soak when the door opened and was filled by Sam's body. He grinned up at Sam, but instantly felt the cool crackle in the air and recognized the dark, forbidding expression in Sam's face. "Bad day at work?"

When Sam's eyes bled black, he got that unsettled feeling in his stomach. "You're angry about the tub? I'm not dressed or covered up," he pointed out. 

Sam grit his teeth as his eyes narrowed on the hunter, in a flash Dean was sent sailing right out of the tub and across the room, back slamming against a wall, before he was flung forward and slammed face first into another wall. "Fucking LIAR!" Sam roared.

Maybe he should have been expecting something, but he had't been expecting this and hadn't even had time to try to protect himself from getting hurt bad. Instead, he was slammed into the walls like a rag doll, the second time sliding down and leaving a trail of wet blood matting against the velvet walls, no wonder they were red.

Dean tumbled to the ground and sat up, wiping his forearm across his nose, chest rising and falling as he looked up. "You know that's... it's overkill, just for keeping the tub. I could dry off--" Seeing Sam's wings spread, he started to internally panic. What had he done that had displeased him now? "Sam?" Instinctively he raised his hand as his brother approached.

Sam walked over to the hunter, jaw clenched and reached down, wrapping a hand around his throat, choking him as he forced Dean to look up at him. "You lied to me," he growled through clenched teeth. " _No one_ lies to me and lives," he ground out angrily. 

Coughing, Dean tried to pry Sam's hand loose. He shook his head no, then started making strangling sounds. When Sam's hold loosened just a little, he rasped. "Never lied to you." He had no idea what Sam was talking about... what did he think was a lie. "Don't know what you mean..." He dug his fingers under Sam's, trying to make sure that he wouldn't all out choke him again.

Sam leaned his face down close to Dean's, demon black eyes intent on green as he nodded. "Lied to me and made me look like a fool. Sad part is, I was foolish enough to believe you before Meg helped me to see what a conniving liar you are," Sam grit his teeth as his gaze roamed over Dean's face. "I think that tongue needs to be _removed_ NOW!"

"Wh... what makes you believe Meg, over me?" He managed to rasp out. "I can't defend myself if you don't tell me."

Sam squeezed Dean's throat harder. "Because she _knows_ better than to lie to _me_ ," Sam sneered, voice soft and deadly.

"No...mn..." Dean shook his head no, his own fingers digging into his throat as Sam mercilessly pressed. Unable to speak, he pleaded with his eyes, and did his best to protect his throat. His survival instinct screamed at him to fight, to punch, to bite, but he listened to another voice, the one that knew Sam... the real Sam. He started to see darkness, started to black out.

Sam released Dean abruptly with a shove. "Why aren't you fighting me? Do you want to die? Is that what this is about? My touching you has made you want death even more than torture?" Sam huffed and hung his head. "I was so close to buying into it, so close to asking you to tell me about your Sam," he shook his head at himself as he turned and walked away to the other side of the room near the bed.

Looking back up at the hunter, Sam glared. "Meg told me how you are making me look, how you fucking tell every demon that you see, the few I allow in here -" he grit his teeth and shook his head. "No more talking, ever. I don't want to hear the word 'brother' or hear you mention me in any context with that, not ever again, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!?"

"I hear you." His voice was just whisper. He turned his head, eyes stinging with tears. "But you'll never be anyone but my brother. It's how it is. It's how it is," he said with finality.

"I SAID **ENOUGH**!!!" Sam yelled as he started choking Dean with demon power, his lips slowly curling into an evil malicious smile as the hunter gasped for breath. 

Black demon eyes lowered to Dean's chest as he started to twist the hunter's heart within his chest. "Oh really? And your precious Sammy would do _this_?" he smiled coldly, "Sounds like my kinda guy." 

At first, he didn't understand what he was feeling. Then he thought his heart was going to stop... was being stopped. He groaned with pain of the sort he'd never felt before, pain from the inside. It hurt to breath, hurt to move. He fell forward, on his arms and legs, then crumpled down to the floor, a stream of blood flowing from the corner of his mouth. _You gonna kill me, Sammy? Better you than her._ He managed a half smile, managed not to look away.

All at once Sam released his hold on Dean, both his neck and his heart. "Meg was probably right, I should have killed you days ago," Sam mumbled as he tore his gaze away from the sight of the hunter bleeding and fought against the strange feeling hit him -- the urge to go over and see if he was alright. Instead, he busiedg himself with nonsensial things, straightening items that were already straight, folding back covers that they were already pulled back, anything to not look over at the hunter and feel. 

Dean had thought he might already be dead. But his mind was still working, and it told him that the fact he was still alive alone meant something. "Nothing like the present Sammy. Not like you didn't shoot me in the ass once already. Good thing it was a pellet gun." He took a heavy breath, putting his hand over his chest where it still hurt. "Personally, I prefer poison. It's more humane."

Sam turned around marching over toward Dean, jaw clenched in anger as he went. Grabbing the hunter up, large hands on each side of his head, Sam looked at him through demon black eyes. "My mother was Lilith the first demon, she was killed by some stupid human bastard," he spat out. "My childhood was a lonely one where I was taught how to rule hell harshly and without feeling. I DO NOT have a brother, I DO NOT have a sister, I DO however have the power to rip you apart, pull your insides out to your outside as you scream. Call me that name again and I WILL do it!" he leaned his face in closer to Dean's. "I have been lenient and kind to you thus far, do not make me show you how cruel I can be," he told him, voice soft and deadly. 

He stared at Sam, his nostrils flaring, his heart hurting and beating out of control. Dean's body hurt everywhere, everywhere, but mostly he wondered if Meg had really undone everything he'd worked so hard for. Had Sam really back-slid that far, or would he be unable to go through with it, _this_? He licked his lips.

_Shut up Dean. Let it pass. Work on him again tomorrow._

Dean looked at the solid black of Sam's eyes, and the dark wings spread above his head. He remembered how much less like a robot he'd looked yesterday, how much more like his brother. 

_Don't do it, don't test him._

"Guess I'll just have to call you Cain instead of Sammy, then." Dean stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth, licking way the blood, and then letting his head drop back. 

With an angry roar, Sam tossed him, nearly across the room. "Shut up! Shut up! You and that brother bullshit!" Sam nodded. "Fine, you wanna see how like your _Sammy_ I am?" Sam looked over at the wall of implements but instead of sex toys or some means of restraint, two stakes, like the kind used on railroads, shot across the room, landing through Dean's hands and into the floor where they lay. "Wanna try for more?" Sam asked, voice cold and deadly, as he walked slowly over.

Dean wished he could have stopped the screams that tore from his throat, but the pain was almost unbearable. His hands... the spikes were thick, they'd gone through bone and muscles and tendons, they'd be no use once he was free... if he ever was free. Only his elbows braced against the floor held him up as he writhed in sheer agony. "Help me." He looked up and ignored the man staring down at him, tried to talk to the one inside him. "Help me Sam."

Sam stopped, froze as his eyes narrowed. The fool was still calling for this beloved Sam? Even now? Even after _showing_ him he was not going to let this go on any longer? Sam's head turned toward the table next to the bed as he held out his hand toward it, scissors flew from the drawer to his hand, before he turned his attention back to the hunter. "Let's see about that tongue."

"No.... no.... Sam... no..." Dean's vocal chords were close to shot, but he managed to beg and plead and shout. Then Sam was looming over his face, and Dean clenched his teeth tight. _Remember me. Remember me. Don't do this.... don't fucking do this._ He lowered his head down to the floor, trying to protect himself the only way he could, skewered into place like he was.

Sam knelt over the hunter, reaching a hand out to grip his jaw, jerking his head forward and applying pressure with his long fingers in the hallows of his cheeks, squeezing hard, forcing his mouth open, his lips to part. "Don't fight me." Sam growled the words low, using demon powers to hold his head still so he could force Dean's lips open and reach into his mouth for his tongue. Sam held the large cruel shears in his other hand at the ready, the blades snapping together as he worked his hand, scissoring them.

"Mmmm... hummuh... hmmuh...." Dean shouted unntelligibly, eyes focused on the blades, trying to get way from them. It was impossible... impossible, and as he felt the metal close around both sides of his tongue and start to cut into thick muscle, death couldn't come too soon for him. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with blood pouring down from his mouth to his chest. He closed his eyes, then forced them open, new pain erupting from his hands as he instinctively tried to move and tore more flesh against the immovable stakes. 

Sam watched through narrowed eyes as he inflicted torture, just as he had hundreds, thousands, perhaps, millions of times before, only this time, he did not watch the face of his victim, did not revel in their cries of pain, did not laugh mockingly. Only completed the task with sure quick movements, snipping off the hunter's tongue and tossing it onto the carpet beside them. Grasping Dean's jaw in his hand, Sam glared hotly. "Keep pushing me and the next thing I remove will be your dick. Got it?"

Dean fell flat on the floor, his face close to the tongue that had been tossed like it was nothing. He cried then, his shoulders shaking as hoarse sobs broke from him. There was silence, no response, nothing else from Sam. This was what it had come to. He was surprised, he really was. As darkness took him, he really did hope it was for good. There was no Sam, not anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite fighting it desperately, Dean woke up. At first, he refused to open his eyes. Sam had already taken his hands and tongue, his eyes would probably be next anyway. Eventually, he did open his eyes. He was on the bed, next to Sam. Hatred boiled inside him, at that moment, if he could have, he would have killed Sam.

Sam licked his lips as he continued to look down at Dean's face, hazel clashing with green. "Glad to see you're awake," he mumbled softly, slowly sliding a hand out toward Dean to stroke his cheek with the backs of his knuckles and frowning when the hunter moved away from his touch. However Sam only sighed and drew his hand back. "You caused all that yourself, I tried to warn you."

It was only as he inched all the way to the other edge of the bed that Dean realized he'd used his hands to move, that they weren't bloodied and destroyed. He swallowed, felt his tongue. He stuck it out, touched it with his hand, then looked at Sam, but didn't say anything. The bastard was probably gearing up to do it all over again. The fact that he looked calm and relaxed, that his wings weren't in sight and his eyes were clear didn't mean anger wasn't right around the corner.

"Yes," Sam told him as he continued to watch the hunter, "I put them back." He shrugged a shoulder, "better actually, your hands aren't scarred now and that one finger doesn't curve funny, from when you broke it --" Sam's lips clamped together so fast it was a wonder he didn't sprain his jaw. "I mean, from where it _looks_ like you broke it," he corrected as he hung his head, trying to figure out how he knew that Dean had broken his finger, and even more strange was the fact that he knew _how_.

Nursing his invisible wounds, Dean didn't even acknowledge the slip of tongue or ask follow up questions. If that sick fuck thought he was going to thank him for this, he had another thing coming. Maybe he was broken now, Dean wasn't sure. But the fire in his belly wasn't there anymore, the punishment Sam had meted out too fresh in his mind. His expression a study of disinterest, he turned his face away and looked at the wall straight ahead. 

Sam looked over at the hunter and smiled. "If you think the silent treatment is bothering me, it's not. It's a welcome relief," he said. "Now," he pulled to his feet and started unfastening his pants, "back to the reason I come here."

Fucking bastard. They were back to square one, as if all these days and weeks of visits, little improvements that seemed to point toward finding a way to get Sam back, had never happened. Fine, Sam wanted a wet noodle, he had one. Dean just sniffed, and didn't bother to protest, or try to engage, and he wouldn't fight either. 

Sam crawled back onto the bed now that he had his pants off, and moved over on all fours hovering above Dean, looking down at him a moment before dipping his head and slanting his mouth over the hunter's, running his tongue along his bottom lip, then delving into is mouth.

Sighing as if put upon, Dean allowed the invasion of his mouth. He tensed slightly when Sam's tongue caressed his own, but he forced himself to relax. Refusing to engage in any tongue play whatsoever, he just let Sam push and pull his tongue around. The electricity that usually crackled between them when they kissed was gone, there was no trace of it. 

Sam pulled his head back and looked down at Dean frowning. "Look, you can pout all you want, but I demand that you kiss me. You know how, it's not like you haven't before. In fact, you were enjoying it before, so do it now."

Yeah sure, kiss, fuck, feel on command. Nevermind I just choked you, crushed your heart... literally... and cut off your tongue. It was almost comical, almost. "Sorry _Master_ ," Dean answered evenly and opened his mouth, waiting for the renewed kiss.

The Prince of Hell smiled almost sadly at the 'master' title. Most he demanded that of, most he expected it of, this one had needed to learn it... so why did it now feel flat to hear it, he wasn't sure. Dipping his head, he slowly eased down on top of the hunter and kissed him again, lightly at first and then deepening the kiss, sliding his tongue along Dean's and running the tip of it over the roof of Dean's mouth.

It was easy to put no effort into the kiss, especially when he kept reminding himself how brutal and heartless Sam had been. It also helped him in a passive aggressive way. He was damned sure that despite all this 'lording it over the slave' business, this was not what Sam really wanted or needed from him. Maybe there was a line somewhere as to how aggressive he liked Dean, and maybe he never realized it before today, but he would now, when Dean presented him with a lackluster and obedient slave. 

Sam pulled his head back and frowned down at Dean in near confusion. "Problem?"

"Master?" he kept his gaze off Sam, looking downwards, submitting to Sam's _superiority._

Sam sighed as he reclined more on Dean, looking into his face. "Look, you can call me Samuel and you can stop with the just laying here bullshit. I'm not impressed by how well you can pout. Never doubted it actually, knowing how well you can scream and yell, I figured it was in there too. Now stop acting like I killed you," he shrugged a shoulder. "I healed you didn't I?

"Thank your for healing me. Thank you for showing me who is master and who is slave," he nodded. "Thank you for proving my brother doesn't live here anymore. My heart, my tongue, everything I ever said to you, it was for him. Now I don't feel anything anymore, but I'll do what you say, when you say, how you say. Do you want me to roll over?" It was all he could do to keep the angry heat from showing in his eyes. 

He should have been pleased to hear those words, Sam knew that he should have, knew it deep in his bones, but instead it felt as though he had just been slapped. He knew he should be thankful that he had finally broken this hunter, but he wasn't... he missed the fire in him. Sam slowly pulled up onto his hands and knees as he looked at Dean with what might have been a sad expression, if he weren't a demon. He licked his lips as his gaze dropped to roam over Dean's body, then rose to his face. Shaking his head, Sam pulled away. "No, it's alright. I'll find another. You don't have to be here anymore," he told him, reaching for his pants.

Dean didn't know how to feel about that, but he too got up. Figuring the rule against being clothed no longer applied, he pulled the sheets off the bed and wrapped them around his waist. He walked to the door and when he pulled on the handle, it actually opened. "Goodbye, Sam," he muttered, walking out from the silence of the room, to the screams that reverberated out there.

He flattened against he wall, heart beating, waiting for them to take him away. Or for Sam. 

* * *

Dean was returned to the torturing areas of hell and Sam hand picked his own sex slaves slaves. All of them had golden brown hair, freckles and green eyes. None of them lasted past two days before Sam tore them to ribbons. 

Days passed into weeks and Sam was unable to get satisfaction from any of the slaves he chose, no matter what he did, the implements he used, how often or how long he would bed them, there was nothing. The few times Sam had foregone the slaves and simply jerked off, it had been to the remembered fire and passion he'd experienced with _one_ certain hunter named Dean Winchester.

The same hunter who had by now, likely been torn apart only to be put back together again nearly a hundred times. The same hunter that he himself had been no better to, that he had gotten so angry at and...

Sam's jaw clenched at the memory of cutting out the hunter's tongue, of impaling his hands. Had he been wrong to do it? _It is your right as Lucifer's son to dish out the punishment, the torture you see fit._ Those words, that knowledge fell flat compared to the ache in his chest and the frustration he felt as he thought of the man. 

_Brother._ Dean had called him, _brother_ , over and over again, leading to his torture, and even then, all the way up until he no longer had the tongue to speak it. Sam ran a hand through his hair as he hung his head where he stood to the sidelines of the torture area, demonic black eyes watching the pain of others. 

Meg... Meg had told him that the hunter was lying, that he was making him out to be the fool... Meg. She always was a bitch. Maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong.

Another three days passed with Sam trying more and more slaves, these lasting no more than a few hours, before he would kill them in a blind rage. Some begging for their lives before their screams were silenced for all time.

Storming out of his room, Sam walked through the halls of torture racks, heading for the one at the back, the one farthest from his room, where he might not be able to hear his screams as easily. No, he wasn't going to think about _why_ he had ordered it that way.

Stopping beside the rack, where the hunter was bound and gagged, the demon torturer busily injecting him with acid that would burn him from the inside out, Sam watched in silence for a moment, jaw clenched as indecision warred within him. 

Finally, Sam held up his hand to stop the demon. "He's mine." Those were the only two words Sam spoke, the demon bowing his head and leaving the hunter to him. Sam waited until the demon was out of sight before he looked back down at the hunter, reaching for the bindings. "Come on, Dean, I gotcha," Sam told him softly. 

Dean snorted at the all to familiar phase and just concentrated on the burn that had started to go up his arm. It hurt, hurt bad, but in comparison to the last bout of torture, it was almost pleasant. Everything was relative... more pain, less pain, a hard day, and easy day where you at least kept most of your skin. 

Out here, you heard things. He had no idea how much time passed, but he heard Sam was going through sex slaves on almost an hourly basis. It made him happy. Yeah, the slaves were getting killed, but that was something you hoped for when you were a human in hell, one that did not belong there. The freeing of your soul was a gift then, one that Sam had denied him. 

He felt the belts slip off him. He wished he could tell Sam to go fuck himself, not to help him up, but he hadn't stood in God knew how long, and there was no way he was getting up without help. 

The last of the restraints removed, Sam didn't wait for Dean to get up, didn't ask him if he needed help, instead he reached down and slid an arm under his knees, one behind his shoulders and lifted him into his arms, carrying him past rows of torture racks, of the screaming damned souls that would likely be there for eternity for punishment. Did they belong there? Some, but since the war after Lucifer rose, more often not that they were simply humans that had the misfortune of getting caught.

Sam kept his gaze ahead of him as he spoke to Dean. "I know you're in pain, I'll fix it when we get to my room and stop glaring at me for carrying you. Enjoy it." A small smirk tilted the corners of Sam's mouth up at his having his hunter to squabble with once more.

"Don't bother, I'm used to it," Dean answered through gritted teeth. Once he would have protested being carried, when he had some pride left, and a sense of self. They'd taken all that away from him... hadn't he already been paraded naked in a bedroom, what the fuck did he care that he was now being carried like a child? At least he had clothes on.

Sam huffed and shook his head. "Stop being such a baby about it, I told you I'd fix it," he said, jaw set. Entering his room, Sam kicked the door closed and locked it with demon telekinesis. Carrying Dean to the bed, Sam laid him down as if he might break. Such a contrast to what he _knew_ the hunter had been put through in the last few weeks.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for Dean's arm, the one the demon had been injecting. "This won't ever happen again," he shook his head. Sam had no idea why he was promising the hunter this, but he was, even though he didn't speak it as a promise it was just that. Hazel eyes met green and locked for a long moment before Sam tore his gaze away, licking his lips. "Let's heal that arm and get that acid out of your system."

"Yeah that's on my top ten 'things to do' list, because then we can get on with the tongue cutting and maybe we'll throw in an amputation or two... wouldn't want my arm to be hurting _before_ that, would we." He should be glad Sam got him out of there, should see it as a sign of progress again, but their last encounter had really turned even his last hope into ashes and Dean wasn't certain he could muster up the desire to keep trying.

Sam clenched his jaw as he looked back at the hunter. He never apologized, didn't even know how, but he was 'sorry.' " _That_ won't happen again either." He swallowed and cleared his throat, "Now shut up so I can concentrate," he huffed, "you whine like an old mule."

Dean held his gaze for as long as Sam allowed. A part of him wanted to believe what he saw in his eyes, but another part protected his own heart, reminding him how mercurial this man who used to be his brother was now. His arm shook as he gave it to Sam, his skin was still bubbling and the only reason Dean wasn't crying out was that even though it hurt.... after days and weeks of screaming, his throat was too torn up. 

The gentleness of Sam's hand touching his arm had Dean's face jerking toward him in surprise. 

Sam's gaze darted to the hunter's face as he saw him grimace. He frowned and licked his lips, tearing his gaze away and slowly closing his eyes as he let out a breath, concentrating on healing the hunter. His wings unfurled from his back as he did, bristling like a bird at a bird bath. Sam's hands on Dean's arm grew warm as he worked, the warmth growing to nearly too hot proportions before Sam released a breath and opened his eyes, black demon eyes. Looking back at the hunter, Sam tilted his head. "Better?"

He'd arched off the mattress as the burn increased, but it was gone as suddenly. Dean looked at his now smooth arm, flexed his hand, then gave a barely perceptible nod. His eyes involuntarily drifted to the nightstand, then quickly darted away from the shears that were still there. He couldn't hide the flinch. So much had been done to him here, so many more painful things, but his brother's hand in his mouth, his face as he mercilessly cut his tongue out... that wasn't something Dean thought he could get over. 

Sam returned the small nod, then sat watching the hunter silently, his eyes following Dean's as they slid to the nightstand. Seeing the way Dean reacted to it, to the scissors still there, scissors he had used to do horrible things, things much much worse than what he had done to Dean, things he had done to the other slaves with those same shears. "I can have them removed." Sam spoke softly as he looked back at Dean's face. "They don't need to be here anymore." 

Lifting a hand, Sam ran the back of his knuckles down the side of Dean's face slowly. "Talk to me," his brow creased, "tell me, um," he pulled from the bed and held up a finger, "wait a minute." He walked across the room to a small dresser and opened the top drawer. He remembered how Meg nearly had a fit when he asked her to get him this, asking him 'why', 'what for' and 'to what end and purpose', but Sam had finally put his foot down and she had relented, getting it for him, much to her displeasure.

Pulling the red and blue box from the drawer, Sam walked back over to the bed and held it out toward Dean. "I think this is what you like?" Sam asked, handing the hunter the box of Old Spice as he sat back down.

"What I like..." he nodded, taking it and slowly opening it. His mind was bombarded by a hundred thoughts. What were they doing here? Should he just clam up and let Sam do whatever he was gonna anyway? Maybe he should take his time, stave off whatever sick torture was coming next. Or maybe he should goad Sam until he did grant him death. 

He slipped the box cover off and pulled out the bottle. "What I like is..." He swallowed, not wanting to share himself and yet battling the opposite desire. "I like burgers, with cheese. Pastrami sandwiches, with extra onions. Pie... cherry," a smile flitted around his mouth as he undid the bottle and sniffed it. "With coffee, black, with sugar. I like highways, driving with the music on. Metallica. Loud, till it drowns out everything else... everything."

He dabbed some of the cologne on, closed the bottle and passed the box back to its owner.

Sam had sat there silently listening, memorizing every word that Dean said and not even realizing it. He shook his head as Dean started to hand him back the box. "That's yours. Not mine," he told him with a nod, then sighed. "I can do nothing about the car or the Metalic--" he frowned, "Metallica?" he shook his head. "I might be able to get you the food, though..." he looked at Dean, his frown deepening. "Do you get _hungry_ down here?" He'd never heard of that happening. Did the ones being tortured _hunger_? The thought had never occurred to him.

"I don't want anything." Setting the box down on the nightstand, Dean carefully watched Sam move around the room. For a second he thought maybe he was leaving, but his heart sank when Sam just went to the other side of the bed and climbed in next to him, though he didn't take his clothes off yet.

Sam slid over next to Dean, and wrapping an arm around his middle, he laid his head on the pillows looking at him. "You may sleep if you're tired. It's alright."

Dean tensed at the touch. He was sure his clothes would be ripped or cut off, and then it would be a matter of choosing what kind of sex Sam needed. At the offer of sleep, Dean's mouth opened slightly. Shit, he'd been about to thank him... thank him for letting him sleep. How crazy was that? "We're gonna... sleep?" He tried to read Sam's, for the moment, clear eyes.

Sam smiled, dimples showing as he shook his head slightly. "No. _You_ are going to sleep," he shrugged a shoulder, "if you would like to. Demons don't require sleep. I'll just lay here with you."

"Am I gonna wake all tied up?" One thing Sam hadn't done was lie to him. He could trust his answer, and that's what he'd base his decision on.

Sam smiled, a small chuckle working out of him. "If you would like to, I'll see what I can do," he licked his lips, "but that was not my plan, no. I thought after your nap, I could maybe," he bit his lip worrying it for a moment, "bathe you." The statement came out sounding more like a question. 

The memory of how he'd been pulled out of the tub the last time he'd seen Sam had Dean bolting upright. He sat up against the headboard, very aware of Sam's arm still over him. His heart raced as images assaulted his mind, the way he'd banged into the walls, blood streaming. His hands nailed to the ground, his tongue forced out of his mouth. "How can you say that?" he asked, his chest rising and falling as adrenalin shot through him. 

Sam frowned in confusion as he looked up at the hunter, "Say what? I only offered a bath," he pulled up to sit on the bed. "I thought we could use your new Old Spice afterward. What is wrong with that?" he was completely confused now why it was that the hunter was acting as though he had just offered to kill... well, in this one's case, his beloved Sam.

Dean started to laugh, hitting his head on the back board. "You don't even remember," his laughter grew louder. "It was the moment you broke me, and you don't even fucking remember." Tear streamed down his eyes, but they were of laughter... bitter laughter. 

Sam frowned at him, slowly shaking his head. "What - what are you talking about?" Insane, the hunter had finally gone insane from his torture. Sam's jaw clenched, muscle twitching. The demon responsible for doing it to this man, this hunter... _his_? Dean... that demon would pay. He rose abruptly from the bed and headed toward the door. "Sleep, I'll - I'll see you later." For now he would question all of hell until he got his answer. 

Dean couldn't stop laughing. Not until he exhausted himself, curled up into a ball, and fell asleep. 

* * *

His stomach growled, loud. So loud it woke him. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was Sam sitting on the bed, next to him, watching him. It was only a little unsettling. The second was the strong smell of a cheeseburger with lots of onions. His mouth watered, but he'd gotten used to hunger, or so he thought... until it gnawed at his stomach like it had in the early days of his captivity. 

Slowly, he sat up. Then he saw the grease marked paper bag sitting between them. Tentatively, he reached for it, his eyes going to Sam's before he put his hand inside and pulled the burger out. His tongue darted out, and he licked a bit of sauce dripping from the sandwich, and then took a big bite. 

Flavors, tastes he'd almost forgotten danced over his tongue. Sweet and tangy, salty. "Mmmm, good," he said with his mouth full, chewing and already anticipating his next bite.

The corners of Sam's mouth quirked up slightly as he gave a small nod. "Good," he answered softly, before pulling to his feet and walking around the room, pacing as he chewed his nails. His search for the demon who had caused Dean to go insane had been fruitless, so Sam had killed each one who had tortured him, or at least those foolish enough to admit to it. "I killed them, ya know?" Sam told him as he walked. "The demons who tortured you," he nodded, "dead. All of them." Looking back over at the hunter, Sam jutted his chin toward the night stand. "There's coffee, too... with sugar."

Dean couldn't fathom how Sam didn't get that Sam had been the worst torturer of all of them. "Really? I thought I saw Meg walking around," he said casually, reaching for the cup and sniffing the aroma of the coffee. Once he chewed a mouthful of the burger, he washed it down with the coffee, making more noises of pleasure.

Sam shrugged a shoulder in response to the inquiry about Meg, as his brows lifted slightly. "She's," he licked his lips as he pulled his fingernails away from his mouth, "not important." He walked back over to the bed and sat down near Dean, slightly slanted hazel eyes intent on his face. "I need you to tell me who was the worst one. I need to know so that I can take care of this," Sam told him slowly, as if Dean were a child, or slow to learn, to understand.

Sam thought he wasn't thinking straight... that he was the one with the 'lobotomy' now? "Meg. I gave you her name. M - E - G, Meg. Right... you can't do anything about _that one_ ," he shook his head in a mock sadness, then took another huge bite, enjoying it immensely, and using it to cover up any excitement, any hopes he had of using Sam to get rid of that bitch.

Sam's eyes immediately bled to black as his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, I can't - DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE TALKING-" Seeing the look on the hunter's face, Sam clamped his mouth shut, though it was an effort, his wings bristled, eyes still narrowed as he glared at Dean. "Meg, _knows_ better than to _touch_ what belongs to _me_!"

"Still believe _her_ over me." Dean finished the burger, licked each of his fingers in an effort not to waste anything, then wiped them on a paper napkin. "Whatever, my answer's not changing."

Dean wondered if he'd have time to down the coffee before whatever 'sports' he was expected to play started. Taking the cup, he sipped a little, closing his eyes at the pleasure going through his system.

Sam grit his teeth. "I never said I believed her, I have not _asked_ her. I know. Believe _me_ , she knows I would destroy her and if not, my father would destroy her." He shook his head, "Either way, it's _not_ Meg." He looked away, over at a wall, at nothingness as he chewed his lip. Looking back at the hunter he gave a small nod. "You hate her. I understand that. She _is_ a bitch," he agreed.

"If you're not going to believe anything I say, why do you even ask? Just don't." His mouth pressed into a firm line, Dean challenged Sam with his eyes. It was harder now, doing this. But it was also in his nature, it would creep up on him, and before he knew it, he was in Sam's face again.

Sam frowned harder at him, their gazes locked, demon black with jade green. Then suddenly Sam let out a small snicker and started to chuckle, though he tried to fight it back, tried not to laugh, but it just kept growing until he was indeed laughing, his pupils shrinking back, eyes hazel once more, now tear-filled in his laughter. Biting his lip, his shoulders shook a few more moments as he managed to get himself under control. "As much of a pain in the ass as you are, I have missed this."

This time it was Dean who looked at Sam like he was crazy. "Maybe we should look for the person who tortured you and kill _them_." He moved the cup around in circles, watching the liquid slosh around. A little chuckle worked its way out of him. He frowned, tried to keep a lid on it. It grew. Then he was cursing, and drinking to stop the laughter, and choking... Goddamit.

Sam snickered softly as he raised a hand, pointing at him, "I'm not saving you from choking to death on your coffee," he teased, before pulling up again and pacing like a caged animal. Sam was new at this, he had no idea how to relate with a human, not really. Talk, that seemed to be what they liked to do, if this one was any indication, but talk about what?

Sam chewed is nails. "Tell me," he frowned, "tell me your favorite thing to do with this brother of yours? How did you laugh with him? Was he funny? Did he like to drive with this Metallic--?" he frowned unsure that he had got the name right.

"Sorry." The word hung between them. "I'm not talking about you in the third person. Pick a new topic or... get on with whatever you have planned." 

Sam frowned as he paused in his steps. "Fine," he shrugged a shoulder, "then tell me something else," he suggested as he started pacing again, chewing relentlessly on his nails.

"No, I'm gonna ask you something. What am I doing here?" He still had clothes on, he hadn't had to perform sexual acts but he knew it was just a matter of time. It was no secret that Sam had not been pleased with any of his other lovers. He waited for Sam to look at him. "What? It's an easy question, why am I here? What do you want from me?"

Sam frowned and tore his gaze away from the hunter. No, it wasn't an easy question. The answer was... **un** demonic, it was _weak_ , it was not something the son of Lucifer should even be thinking, let alone saying. _I want what we almost had before._ "I don't know how to answer that," Sam told him instead. 

That sent the blood to Dean's temples. He got up, crossed the room, pushed Sam back up against the wall and was in his face. "You know. Either you, and when I say 'you', I mean my brother, recognize me and miss me, or, you... whoever 'you' are in his body, you're wound up tight because no one else could find your _G-spot_. They're too scared to touch it, and you're too fucking scared to ask for it. One, or both... which is it?"

Sam's eyes bled to black as he glared back at the hunter. "I - am- NOT scared of anything!" he ground out through gritted teeth. _Except maybe a hunter who makes me feel things I don't understand, had me remembering memories that are not even mine. Has me wanting, the impossible._ "And I've told you," he shook his head slowly, "I'm not your brother," he said softly, though he tore his gaze away this time.

"Bullshit." Dean didn't budge an inch.

Sam looked back at him, demon black eyes locked with green. Sam's nostrils flared, lips pressed tightly together. "I don't know what you're talking about," he ground out.

"Bullshit," he repeated, this time gripping Sam's shoulders and crushing his mouth over Sam's, refusing to close his eyes even as he saw Sam's eyes go dark. The kiss was merciless, painful, filled with all of his own frustration and tension. When he pulled back, he tasted blood. "If you're not Sam Winchester, then you better fucking learn how to 'play him' for me, or _that's_ not happening ever again."

Sam glared at him as he raised a hand, wiping his mouth with the back of it. "You will _not_ tell me what to do," he said evenly, fighting his temper. "I do not know _how_ to 'play' Sam for you..." he gave a half sigh, half huff, "Why don't you tell me."

Dean's nostrils flared. About to explode again, somehow it sank in that this was a concession. "When I call you 'bitch,' you call me 'jerk. You say it like this, just like this, _jerk,_ " he said in the same exact inflection Sammy used, emphasizing the 'k' sound. "When I ask for onions, you make a face, you argue you don't want to suffer with the smell. When I ask for a double beef burger with extra cheese, you warn me about heart attacks. When I'm hurt, you tell me you 'got me', _just_ like this..." Again, he spoke like his brother would. 

Sam's pupils had shrunk back again as Dean spoke, his wings folding and disappearing. "Like I did earlier?" Sam asked softly, barely loud enough to be heard.

"Just like that. Just like that, Sam." His eyes filled with tears. "Ball's in your court."

Sam nodded, lips pressed tightly together. "Okay," he answered softly, nodding again before hanging his head, "okay."

"Okay." Dean's hand shook as he stroked it down Sam's chest then pushed away. "Okay, Sammy."

* * *

Dean was shirtless, but wearing jeans. Since the day he'd been brought back to Sam's quarters, he'd been allowed pants and food. He knew he didn't need to eat, but it was comforting somehow, though it also made him feel guilty. All those people on the other side of that door, starving and in pain.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but figured at least a week. Every time Sam walked in the door, he expected violence... but it never came. He expected to have his clothes ripped off and for Sam to demand sex... wasn't that what he'd been brought here for? But that too never happened.

Sure, he saw lust in Sam's eyes. All the time... lurking. He saw the bulge in his jeans whenever they were close or touched. The most Sam asked for were kisses, and Dean gave them to him. He kissed Sam like he meant it, and he did, because Sam... Sam gave him his brother. He talked like him, allowed Dean to talk about the old days, and a lot of the time, it felt just Sam was right there. He thought by 'acting' like Sam, this man who thought he was the son of Lucifer, might find way to 'being Sam.' Right... if that wasn't a mind twister, Dean had no idea what was.

The demons who were responsible for the care of Sam's room and his slaves took the tub he'd bathed in out of the room. Then Dean was asked to put his arms up. He'd already got his jeans on before they started their Goddamned oiling started, but too bad. Though there were no curtains around the bed, there was a railing overhead for it. On his knees on the bed, he grabbed onto them as two of the demons started pouring oil and rubbing it into his chest and back, his arms. "Just hurry the fuck up," he muttered.

Sam walked to his room, wearing the frown he always wore when he walked about taking care of his duties. He'd just overseen the disemboweling of a young man, who couldn't have been a day over sixteen. The kid was a hunter, or well on his way to being one, so Sam shouldn't have felt anything, should have enjoyed the sight, the sound of his screams, but he hadn't. Instead he had rushed the job through and stormed away in a huff. This acting like Dean's Sam Winchester was interfering, bleeding into his duties. That had to be it, he was feeling some ghost man's feelings and not his own, they were simply an echo of things Dean had taught him about this elusive brother.

Sam had actually gone so far as to ask the other demons to try to locate this Sam Winchester above ground, capture him and bring him down... _for Dean._ However, his inquiries into the man had been met with nervous looks and quick retreats as if this Sam Winchester was something to be feared or at the very least avoided at all costs. Sam was still thinking about that as he pushed open his bedroom door.

Glancing up, all thoughts of the days troubles suddenly left his mind as he saw Dean kneeling in the center of the bed, his body clad in only the jeans he had been given to wear - per Sam's demands - with his arms raised high above his head, muscles taut and shining with the oil that the demons were rubbing on the hunter. Never mind that he had told them before to stop doing it as he wanted Dean to be scented with the Old Spice and no longer like vanilla. Right now, as far as he was concerned the scent was not what mattered but the sight before him. The deliciously arousing sight, that already had his cock pressing painfully against the confines of his leather pants. 

Sam let the door swing shut, his eyes laser focused on Dean, even as he felt the other demons in the room look over at him. Sam's lips parted, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. Licking his lips, he took a small leaden step forward and swallowed. "I - I didn't know you were busy." Sam stammered, hazel eyes intent on green. 

"Busy, this isn't busy. This is... I don't know what this is," Dean said, his mouth flat. He found the hands moving up and down his body irritating, especially since they were attached to arms, attached to bodies, attached to heads with eyes that bled black. Not his idea of relaxing. On the other hand, he could tell this was having a very different effect on Sam. He wasn't sure whether to be flattered or worried. Okay he knew he _shouldn't_ be flattered or want his touch or his lust but... so many things were screwed up down here, that was one of them. Sometimes he missed the sex. Sometimes he wanted the kisses to turn into more. He licked his lips and looked down at the hand on his stomach, then back at Sam.

Sam pressed his lips together in a firm line, his features hardening. "Get out." The words, though spoken softly, had the demons moving with haste, as if afraid to get out of the way of a deadly cobra about to strike. Sam's eyes followed them, though his body remained still as a statue as he watched them leave, nearly falling over one another to do so.

Once they were alone, the door having closed once more, Sam's eyes slid back to Dean before he started walking forward, going to the bed. Reaching it, Sam's hands went to the fastenings of his own pants without saying a word, quickly unfastening them and sliding them off, freeing his throbbing and fully erect cock, aching for Dean. 

Sam moved to lay down on the bed, though he held himself tensely, his mouth set in a grim even line. "Kiss me." 

"Kiss you?" Dean hadn't seen Sam naked in a long time, or what seemed like a long time, and the sight seemed to have struck him dumb. "Where?"

The muscle in Sam's jaw pulsed. "Don't tempt me," he told him softly as he narrowed his eyes. Sam tore his gaze away from Dean's mouth and cleared his throat. "My lips."

Dropping down on all fours, Dean crawled over to Sam and hovered over him, one arm on either side of his shoulders, his body shrouding part of Sam's chest. "You in a good mood, Sam?" He swallowed, his eyes moving from Sam's lips to his clear eyes.

Sam licked his lips, huffing softly, "Good mood?" he asked stiffly, his gaze dropping down to Dean's lips, "I will be, once you do as I asked," his gaze darted back up to Dean's as he cleared his throat. "Please," he added, using the word he was unfamiliar with, but knowing it was the more accepted way humans asked for things instead of demanding it. _Trying._ He was fairly sure Sam would say 'please'.

"Anything you want, _Sammy_." Dean kissed him lightly, chastely, smiled, then kissed Sam's upper lip, sucking it in just a little, then moving to his bottom lip. He was teasing him, but that's why he'd wanted to know if Sam was in a good mood, whether he'd take it. He heard Sam's sharp intake of breath, and looked up. "Kissed you."

Sam shook his head slightly, lips pressed together as his back arched just slightly, one hand going to his groin, his large hand wrapping around his erect shaft, slowly starting to pump himself. "Need more. Kiss me again," Sam told, hazel eyes intent on green.

Pulling back, Dean looked down Sam's long lean body, watched him for a moment. His heart kicked up a notch as his gaze clung to Sam's fist moving up and down his length. Heat crept up his cheeks and his breaths started to get shallow, as if he was the one jerking off. Then he felt Sam's gaze on him, and remembered he was to kiss him. 

This time, Dean's eyes were burning intensely as he brought his mouth down hard over Sam's in a full-on open-mouthed kiss. Right from the get go, he was in control of it, his tongue inside Sam's mouth, tangling, stroking... drawing out his moans. Then he heard his name, soft... like his brother waking from sleep in the morning... checking to see if he was there. It was in his head, Sam couldn't talk with his tongue in his mouth, but it had Dean easing the kiss. He went from controlling, to tender, to letting Sam show him what he wanted. 

As Dean kissed him, Sam's fist stroked his cock faster, his wings unfurling from his back as he arched slightly to allow them room, his tongue tangling with Dean's as he kissed him back, his free hand moving to wrap around Dean, hand sliding up, digits tangling in the soft short strands of his hair.

Each of Sam's moans, which grew progressively louder and more frequent, were swallowed up in the kiss. With each intake of breath, Sam's chest rubbed slightly against Dean's and had Sam arching for better contact. His hips bucked hard, thrusting his aching cock into his fisted hand over and over as they kissed, a low frustrated groan emerging from deep in his throat.

Breaking the kiss, Dean moved his mouth down Sam's neck, kissing, licking, nipping. He could feel Sam straining, heard his harsh breaths, read him... his need, his impatience at not yet coming. He scraped his teeth against Sam's nipple, then kissed it better, moving lower, over his abs... his head knocking against Sam's arm as he sucked on taut skin stretched over muscle. 

Sam's breaths panted out, lips parted, face flushed slightly as he thrust his cock into his fist, his eyes following Dean as he kissed down his body, then closing to picture Dean the way he had looked as he'd walked into the room. Glistening, muscles taunt as he reached high above his head, kneeling there in the center of his bed. His sun-kissed sun, dotted with freckles as if angels had kissed his flesh and left behind their mark.

Sam grit his teeth, eyes opening as he fucked up into his fist harder, so hard it wasn't an exaggeration to think that he might actually be raw later. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Sam arched his neck as he tensed his muscles, moans and groans falling from his lips.

Dean ran his hands over Sam's body, his chest and abs, as he kissed and kneaded him. Each frustrated sound that Sam made affected him strongly, had him wanting to climb on top of Sam, to take him inside. Another voice in his head said what he really wanted to do was fuck Sam... but he was going to ignore both those voices, force them out of his mind.

It went on and on, for a while longer, until Sam's agony started becoming his own. Dean finally had enough and sat up. "Turn over. I mean it, just turn over and trust me." 

Sam's eyes opened, breaths panting out, hazel locking with green. Sam squeezed his eyes closed as he fought in vain to simply fuck harder still into his fist, precum oozing down the side of his cock that was so hard the tip was nearly purple. Sam bit his lip, neck arching, "Aauugh!" Sam squeezed his eyes closed and opened them again, his head lowered as he released his cock and slowly started to roll over, adjusting himself against the mattress as he did. Laying on his stomach, head turned to the side, breaths panting out, Sam closed his eyes. "Don't _ever_ tell anyone about this," his voice was tinged with the old steel that use to be his norm when commanding Dean, before he swallowed and added, in what he hoped was his best 'Sam voice', "jerk."

"Whatever you say... bitch." Dean wore a broad smile as he waited, then lowered his head and bit Sam's butt lightly. Oh yeah, his brother wasn't in the mood for jokes, but when he sounded this much _like his brother_ , Dean couldn't help treating him like that. 

Sam's head lifted off the pillow at the feel of Dean's teeth on his ass cheek, his lips parting and the ready retort of him losing all of his teeth at the tip of his tongue, before Sam swallowed the words down and laid his head back against the pillow, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth instead.

Dean mounted Sam them, straddling his ass, knowing it would irk Sam... being on the bottom like this. He half sat down, dragging his jean covered cock up along Sam's ass crack, then lowering down over his back. "Who knew I couldn't resist feathers... for Chrissakes."

Sam's eyes widened slightly, even as his cock pulsed under him, twitching against the silken sheets as he felt Dean straddling his ass, his denim clad cock against his crack. Sam bit hard into his bottom lip, now caught between straight white teeth, in order to stifle the very _un_ -demon-like moan at the feeling. He frowned slightly, _Feath--?_

That was the only warning Dean gave Sam, before grasping the edges of his wings with his hand, then moving his mouth over the soft feathers, kissing him, skimming lightly across both wings, in the direction of the feathers. He was careful not to touch where the wings grew out of Sam's spine, that was for last, but he fucked against Sam as he ratcheted up the heat between them with his mouth.

Sam's brows rose as his lips parted on an audible gasp at the feel of Dean's hands, his soft _lips_ against his feathers. _Oh my God!_ Sam's cock pulsed under him, leaking precum, as he throbbed. Thrusting against the bed, Sam moaned and groaned his pleasure, wiggling and writhing, his head turning as he tensed his muscles, his back arching first one way and then the other, against Dean, then away, grinding his cock against the bed. "Oh God... Dean..." Sam gasped in air, groaned and grit his teeth, eyes squeezing closed, face flushed, eyes glazed with passion. Sam whimpered and grunted, mewled and made noises he'd never heard himself make as he thrashed under the hunter. 

"You're so hard," Dean kept moving his mouth over Sam's wings, speak between kisses. "Waited so long, so damned long, and now..." The sounds were coming louder from his brother now. "... now you just wanna come." He fucked a little harder against Sam's ass, knowing it would excite and pleasure his brother, but trying not to freaking come in his own pants. 

"I'd do anything for you Sammy, anything... you're my brother... anything for you," he whispered near Sam's ear this time, before burying his face in the feathers at the top of Sam's spine, moving against Sam's most sensitive spot. "Help you come..." he kissed only a little harder...right there.

Sam's head jerked up, eyes wide as he gasped in an audible breath of air, hands clutching at the pillow under him, muscles tensed and locked. He squeezed his eyes closed, as his hips jerked against the bed only twice more before he was screaming out his pleasure, head tilted back, lips parted, breaths panting out, he came hard and hot against the bed, writhing against Dean, trying to rub his wings against him more, at the same time as he fucked against the bed. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod... don't stop! Shit! Oh shit!"

Sam collapsed against the bed finally spent and sated, body limp, eyes closed as his breaths panted through parted lips.

Though Dean lay on top of Sam, his one hand still stroked Sam's wing lightly and his face was still burried in his wings. "I'm not in trouble, am I?" he asked. He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but it never hurt to be sure. "It was good... good for you."

Sam shook his head, eyes closed, "Mmm, no," he answered breathlessly, sounding nearly sleepy. "Not in trouble," he sighed softly as he nodded. "Yeah, s' good. Was so good."

"Yeah?" He sniffed, then lifted up as Sam's wings folded in on themselves and disappeared. He kissed that spot on his spine. "My lips tingle when I touch you here. You feel anything?"

Sam chuckled softly, "Yeah, drained," he joked, still not moving. Slowly, he rolled onto his back, looking up at Dean. He shrugged a shoulder. "It hurts a little, when they appear and when they go away," he answered softly, reaching up to trace the hunter's bottom lip with an index finger.

Dean nipped Sam's finger, then let him keep drawing on his mouth, though it was a bit awkward to talk. "You know, I think you have an unhealthy fascination with my mouth."

Sam smiled, dimples showing as his gaze darted from Dean's mouth to his eyes and back. He frowned thoughtfully, though his finger continued to trace along the full tender flesh, "Do I?"

"Think so," he nodded. "Pretty sure of it." Smiling, he rolled over on top of Sam and started to lower his mouth over Sam's. "S'okay, I think I like kissing you... I think I can say that _down here_ without getting smote." 

Sam nodded, "Mmm, yeah, you can say that here," he told him lifting his head to brush his lips across Dean's. He shook his head, "I'd never let anybody ' _smite_ ' you," he told him, smiling, before slanting his mouth back over Dean's.

* * *

They'd been lounging on the bed just chatting, when a couple of demons came in and asked Dean to get off the bed. He laughed, they didn't.

"Sam..."

When Sam looked away, his expression disinterested, Dean got worried. "Sam?"

The demons weren't pleased, and two of them grabbed him. Once they had him off the bed, Dean started to fight them. "Get your hands off me you sonovabitch!" He got a few good punches in, but more demons came in and his arms were quickly pinned behind his back and he was being dragged out. "Sam.... Sam, what's going on? What did I do... what the fuck did I..."

Before the door slammed behind them, he thought he saw Sam wave at him. What the fuck? His heart pounded against his chest as they started walking past people on racks, getting tortured. As fears started to invade his mind, he heard whispers of Lucifer's son having finally tired of his slave. Even the demons taking him away were taking bets on how he would be killed, or who would be assigned to torture him.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam waited until the door closed behind Dean, biting his cheek so he wouldn't smile, his hands clasped loosely on his stomach. Now that Dean was gone, Sam pulled up to sit on the bed, hands falling to his sides as he looked around the room. He had a lot of work to do if he was going to make this into the type of room that Sam Winchester would have had. According to Meg, who he'd asked about Sam, Sam Winchester was the most revolting sort of human. The kind that liked sweet things, cared about people, animals, and the environment.

"Bet he was one of those... what do humans call 'em? _Tree huggers_ ," Sam muttered under his breath as he pulled to his feet frowning. He was definitely the 'hugging' type at any rate, which was just plain annoying. _'Lollipops and candy canes'_ Meg had said. Sam gave a shudder. "And you _like_ this person, Dean?" With a sigh, Sam went to changing his room around, **completely** around.

Hours later, Sam sat down on the pale blue quilt covering his bed and looked around his room, giving a shudder. "He's gonna kill me," he nodded. "That's what this is, Dean is telling me about this brother and making me act like him in hopes that I will die..." he looked over at the navy blue curtains that used to be black, and sighed, "and if I keep this up, I will die." He made a face and swallowed hard.

Not only were the quilt and curtain different, but Sam had closed the curtain once more, had changed the sheets to cream satin instead of black, the carpet had been rolled up and replaced with white, there were bags of candy here and there around the room and a large television sat that the foot of the bed, facing it.

Lifting a hand, Sam ran it through his hair and shook his head. Walking to his door, he cracked it open, though not enough for anyone to see in. "Bring him back, BUT!" Sam held up a finger, "Blindfold him first."

Dean struggled all the way, fighting them, arguing... demanding to know what was going on, and when the door opened and he refused to get inside, he was shoved so hard he fell to the ground and hit his chin on something. He put his hand out and immediately felt the boot, knew it was Sam's, and froze.

"You may go, _I_ will deal with him." Sam told the demon, eyes narrowed and black. A string of 'yes, my lord's' followed his orders before the demons scurried away, leaving Dean alone with him. Once the door closed, Sam locked it and crouched, grasping Dean under the arms to pull him up to his knees.

"Come with," he said, "I have something for you, but the blindfold has to stay... for now."

Dean was breathing a little hard. "You know, if you're gonna do this, kill me, I'd rather see how I'm gonna buy it." His jaw ached. It took everything he had not to pull the fucking blindfold off or try to fight Sam, but he knew it would piss him of more.

Sam's lips parted as he tried to think of the words that 'Sam' would say. "I gotcha, Dean. I gotcha. S'okay." Sam told him as he helped Dean pulled to his feet. "Trust me," he said, softening his tone before starting to pull him across the room toward the bed.

"I have trust issues." Dean let out a breath of air, and let Sam push him onto the bed. He was a little less worried, but still very unsure of what was going on. 

"Yeah, I know, s'alright." Sam told him as he helped him sit down on the bed and scoot back so that his back rested against the headboard. Sam sighed, "Okay, are you ready? I think it's horible, but I did my best to - well, to," he sighed, "Aw, you'll see." Sam half groaned as he reached for the blindfold, untying it from Dean's eyes so he could see the bedroom and the television and the candy and the beers, the mini fridge and the bags of chips. Sam bit his lip as he crouched next to the bed. "Did I do okay?" he asked hesitantly. 

Dean had braced... for nothing. Taking a couple of deep breaths, his gaze darted around the room, back to Sam, then around the room again. He was trying to figure out what the hell it was that Sam was trying to accomplish here and could tell it was important to him. "It... It looks like a motel room... in Candyland?" His gaze went back to Sam. "Ah... It's... you got it right, other than the missing magic fingers," he nodded. He still wasn't absolutely sure what Sam was doing, but he guessed trying to make him feel at home or something.

He got off the bed, and on the way to the t.v., picked up a lollipop... "there's a helluvalot of candy, Sam, is it Halloween or something?" 

Climbing onto the bed, Sam kept his gaze on Dean, watching him as he moved away from the bed a few steps. 

Not waiting for an answer, Dean grabbed the remote and got back on the bed. "But the t.v.? Stroke of freaking genius." Snuggling up against Sam, he hit the power button, and got... snow. "Or ... not." He looked up at Sam.

Sam pressed his lips together as he frowned at the televison, "S' kinda just a prop," he muttered before looking at Dean. "It's not like you can get channels down here. Sorry." Sam worried his lip for a moment as his gaze darted about the room then went back to Dean's face. "So, you _do_ like it? The room? I wasn't sure about what to do and I asked Meg to tell me about Sam, but..." he frowned and made a face, "he sounded rather... girly." Sam looked around his room and shuddered slightly. "You miss him so much, I mean _me_ so much, I thought maybe if I surrounded you with stuff that made you think of him, uh, _me_ ," he shrugged, pressing his lips together. 

Dean's gaze dropped to the quilts, and then went to the ... what did they call those embroidered things? Doilies? Sitting on some of the tables, then back to Sam. All very UN-Sammy. He turned back to Sam. "Tell you a secret. None of the places we stayed was ... home, or reflected either of us, you know? But just looking at you, that's home." He nodded, but didn't add that it was true only when he was in his mellow moods and not off torturing people. 

"Another thing.." he peeled the wrapper off the lollipop, and licked it, giving a satisfied "mmm" sound. "The candy... it's more me than you. But I bet you'll like the taste off me." After a few more licks, he leaned over and licked Sam's lip. "Don't even deny it." 

Sam was frowning slightly as he listened to Dean, not at all pleased that what he had tried to do wasn't quite right. However he also tried not to let it show. A small smile crept across his face as Dean licked his lip. Hazel eyes following Dean as he pulled back, "I think you should do that again... longer this time." 

"You sure it's not too sweet for you? I mean you had this look on your face when you looked at the candy," Dean teased. He made a great show of licking the lollipop, rubbing it on his lips, then he leaned over, put his arms around Sam and kissed him. Their lips slid and stuck and slid together, as they shared the taste of cherry flavored candy. 

As Dean drew back slightly, Sam was smiling up at him. "I think the candy was a good idea," he nodded and licked his lips. Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth Sam's gaze searched Dean's face. "I want... I want you to do something for me. Would you?" Sam asked him.

Dean cocked his head. "What do you want?" A part of him worried about the price tag. Arm? Leg... torture someone? Sam was changeable like the wind. Still, this was progress. Yeah he knew Sam was only pretending to be his Sam, or trying to figure out his Sam, but they were moving in the right direction.

"I want you to make yourself cum while I watch," Sam chewed his bottom lip and added, "please...?"

"That's it? That's all you want?" When Sam nodded, he did the same. "Alright. Just one thing... you know you had me freaked... having me dragged out? I thought I was... forget it. Just lay back," he smiled suddenly, knowing Sam wouldn't get it. Wouldn't get how terrorized he could be of him after everything that had happened. He seemed to live only in the moment, somehow.

Dean pushed Sam down, then straddled his hips, staying on his knees and off Sam. He stared at him for a long moment, his gaze traveling down his chest, and back up, lingering on Sam's lips, leaving him no room to speculate as to what or who he was thinking of as he squeezed himself through his pants. It didn't take long for him to start getting worked up. Letting his hand drop, he let Sam see his cock straining against the jeans he'd been given and allowed to wear. "Unzip me."

Sam watched Dean, gaze intent on his face, his brilliant green eyes, small nose, freckles that dotted along the bridge, and full soft lips that begged to be kissed. Sam's gaze flickering down to Dean's hand that cupped his denim clad cock, only to return to his face once more as Sam drew his bottom lip into his mouth, catching it between rows of straight white teeth. _So hot... his human was so hot..._

Licking his lips, Sam's gaze darted back to the rather obvious buldge in Dean's jeans. He raised his hand, hand that nearly trembled and took hold of the button, unfastening it. Hazel eyes traveled up to Dean's face, as his hand slowly tracked down to the zipper and he slowly slid the zipper down, gaze dropping down to watch as more and more of Dean was revealed to him. Once the zipper was open, he looked up Dean's face as he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. "You're so beautiful."

"I know, for having been tortured in hell, I look fantastic," he grinned and shoved his jeans down all the way to his knees. His freed cock was practically in Sam's face, and if that wasn't irreverent enough, he intentionally slid his tip across Sam's mouth before leaning slightly back and sliding his fist slowly up and down his hard shaft. Gaze locked with Sam's, he said, "lube me."

Sam licked his lips slowly, his gaze darting between Dean's cock and his face. Slowly tearing is gaze away, Sam turned slightly, reaching over to the nightstand and slid open the drawer, his free hand coming up to rest on Dean's thigh, thumb rubbing small circle patterns against his skin as if in a comforting manner, remembering how upset Dean got looking toward this nightstand. Pulling out a small jar, Sam backhanded the drawer closed before pulling back to his former position, his gaze intent on Dean's face for just a moment, as he laid the jar down on the bed next to himself. Reaching out, Sam gently pushed Dean's hand away from his cock as he lifted his head, tongue darting out to lick slowly across the tip of his crown, his gaze darting up to Dean's face, before lowering once more.

Closing his eyes, Sam drew the head of Dean's cock into his mouth, sucking hard on just a small area of the tip. Releasing, Sam moved his mouth to another area of the head and did the same, then another and another. Each time, each small section he sucked nearly hard enough to bruise.

Dean watched Sam's every move, tensing only slightly when he reached for lube but quickly was distracted by the way Sam massaged his thigh. He was a little surprised when his hand was moved out of the way and Sam took him, just a little of him inside his mouth. Guess that did qualify as lubing. Dean made a small sound, then bit his lower lip as Sam sucked him almost too hard. His abs shuddered as he gripped Sam's shoulders to keep himself stable.

Slowly lowering his head back to the pillows, Sam's gaze met Dean's as he reached for the jar with his free hand and opened the lid, scooping out a good amount. Bringing his hand back to Dean's cock, Sam started slowly rubbing the lube over his length, a small smile tugging at his lips as he waited for Dean's reaction to the warming, tingling sensation.

"Mmmm... good Sam," his breaths puffed out from between his lips, his hips thrusting forward slightly as his cock got impossibly hard in Sam's hand. He wriggled a bit, trying to get more pressure from Sam, cursing as heat swept through his system. Sam might not know it, but Dean had missed being touched. "So... what would happen if I went 'bad brother' and asked you to suck me off instead of me using my hand?" He was serious, and hella needy, so much so that he leaned in more, his hands going to the headboard to hold himself up.

Sam licked his lips slowly, his gaze darting from the hunter's face down to his cock, and back before Sam slowly shook his head. "I don't think you would like that half as much as you think you would. Maybe it's better for both of us if you just," he released Dean's dick, bringing his hand to Dean's other thigh, both hands kneading the muscles, sliding up and down Dean's bent legs as Sam bit his lip, looking up at Dean with what could only be considered a look of raw hunger, "do it the way I asked."

Was that a warning? Was he warning him to do exactly as he said for once, or was he trying to protect him? Seeing as he had no choice, Dean just nodded, tensing as Sam's hand moved high up on his inner thigh but didn't touch his cock. Reached down, he grasped his own cock and started to move his fist over his shaft, gliding back and forth, his wrist twisting slightly with each movement. Between that, and Sam's touches, and the way he was looking at him, watching him, Dean was quickly on his way to chasing release.

"Mmm... fuck... oh God..." he didn't try to hide the way he was feeling or the sounds that welled up in his throat. He didn't even bother to hide what was in his mind. "Know what I'm thinking about Sam? I'm thinking about fucking your wings," he said, wondering how shocked his brother would be at that. Everytime he let Dean get away with even touching his wings was a big deal, Dean knew that.

Sam's hands on Dean's thighs stilled, fingertips digging into flesh as he looked up at him. "My," he licked his lips, "wings?" his voice came out a lot huskier and raw than it had been a moment before. Sam cleared his throat as his hands started to move once more, a thumb sliding under Dean's balls to press at his perineum. "Tell me about it, Dean. How would you do it? How would it go... exactly?" 

"Fuck... Sam!" His entired body clenched as Sam intentionally denied him his release. He struggled... struggled for air... struggled to think, to answer. "I'd have you on your stomach, wrists cuffed if necessary..." again, not very respectful, but it was his fantasy, and Sam had asked. "I'd kiss and lick my way up hour body, your legs, your ass. Bite your cheek, hard... wanna hear you cry out. Then I'd move up your back, lick your spine... make you spead your wings. I'd blow on them as I ground into your ass, I'd ignore it if you told me not to touch... I need to touch... want it."

Dean licked his lips as he went silent for a few moments, stroking himself, moving his hips almost wildly. "Let me come," he whispered, trying to move in such a way that Sam's finger would move to his cock. "I'd grab the headboard, like I'm doing, my knees straddling your back, and lean down ..." He leaned down so far, he was almost doing a push up, his chest grazing Sam's lips before he pulled back out, "then I'd just ... fuck your wings... close my eyes... feel you shaking under me... hear your sounds... just keep fucking until I came all over them... dirtied them... then I'd lick you clean and fuck them again.

Sam grinned up at him, his thumb against Dean's perineum, making small pressing circles as he watched him. "Could be dangerous," he offered softly, voice husky, sexy, like a lover's caress. He licked his lips, "And what if I offered that to you? Are you really brave enough to try it?"

"You really gotta ask me that, Sam?" His hips were thrusting wildly now, his cock almost raw as he pumped himself. "I'm too close to coming right now... fuck, oh fuck, let go... need it. Need - to - come," sweat dripped from his forehead.

Sam's gaze laser focused on Dean, lips parting softly as the tip of his tongue ran over his bottom lip just before he pulled his thumb away. "Cum for me, Dean," Sam ordered.

The command did it. Arching, throwing his head back, Dean gave a soft moan as his balls drew up even tighter against his body, taking the ache between his legs to new heights. Then he was shouting out his release, calling Sam's name as hot ropes of cum exploded from him. At first he was senseless, but after the third time, he managed to aim for Sam's lips, smearing himself all over him, marking him the way a slave would never, should never mark a master.

Sam watched through heavy lidded eyes as Dean came apart above him, as he shouted his release, stirring Sam's own desires and making him moan softly as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth.

Sam gasped in a breath, lips parting as Dean's cum marked his lips, spread across the tender flesh, warm and tangy as he let his tongue dart out to taste. His own breaths were coming faster as he closed his eyes, his hands on Dean's thighs gripping tight, fingertips digging into Dean's sun-kissed skin. "You have no idea," Sam told him, voice low and husky, "what it is that you do to me."

Dean put his hands over Sam's arms, squeezing them, kneading and stroking as his body started to calm. "Truth is... You've cut off your feelings, Sam, or they have." He leaned down and kissed the scar on his forehead, without having to state his theory again. "Me... I'm just a toy, give you a little thrill... make you a feel a little. Just like the torture... you feel nothing most of the time, and it gives you that same thrill. That's what I do to you, that's the only thing I do."

Slowly, he sat down on Sam's thighs. "I wish... I wish I could reach deeper."

Sam licked his lips as he looked at the hunter. Was he right? Was that all this was? A thrill, like the torture. He had to admit to not feeling much of anything when he wasn't either here or out there, tearing some poor soul to shreads... but the other day, the way it had nearly _bothered_ him to witness the man-child's torture. _Not your feelings, those were borrowed... from Dean's Sam. Not your own._

Clearing his throat as he tore his gaze away, Sam looked at the wall as he swallowed, swallowed back the unfamiliar sensation in his chest. Unsure just exactly what it was. His brows furrowed thoughtfully, though he kept his gaze averted. "The other day," he shook his head, "night, whatever. I - there was a young man, a hunter," he swallowed before chewing his lip for a moment. "I didn't like his torture much." His head slowly rolled to look back up at Dean as he offered a small smile. "Your Sam's emotions must be infectious. I mean _mine_ , er..." he let out a breath as he lifted a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger briefly before letting his hand fall away again. "Thank you... and Sam.... for that. Feeling," he offered a small smile again, though the corners of his lips actually turned downward instead of up.

Something squeezed Dean's heart as he listened. He sucked his breath in, then leaned in. "So you believe me? That you are Sam? That something was done to you?" He stroked Sam's chest, drawing on it with his fingers. "If you do... there's got to be someone other than Meg you can ask about your scar, someone too scared to tell her you asked. Find out what it is, what they did Sam... let your hunter's instincts out... let it ask questions."

Sam shook his head slowly. "I don't know what I believe," he answered softly, "I don't even know that I know _how_ to believe. But, if I could be anyone," he nodded, "I would be your Sam. He was, _is_ ," he cleared his throat, not wanting to kill any hope Dean might have that this Sam might still live, "very... _lucky_ to have you as his brother."

An odd ache intered into Sam's chest, one that he didn't like, one that had him wanting to put this Sam on his rack, one that _would_ have him doing it, if not for that fact that it would hurt Dean in the process. Sam frowned darkly as he tore his gaze from Dean's face, staring off at nothing as he tried to place the sensation.

After a long moment he shook his head, looking back at Dean's face. "I think," he licked his lips, sucking the bottom one into his mouth and still tasting Dean there. "I think I am jealous of him."

Dean had seen the dark emotions crossing Sam's features and had been worried they were directed at himself. He didn't know whether to laugh or not, but he managed to keep it in. "Well, A... there's no reason to be because you are him, and B... if you don't believe that, then you _know_ he and I... we never..." he wagged is finger between them. "So... I didn't give him any happies, if that's what you're jealous about." 

Sam's lips slowly curved upward as he looked at Dean. He nodded, "That's good, because I was trying to figure out how it was I was going to manage getting him on my rack if he _is_ me." He frowned suddenly, "I think my head hurts." His lips curved into a smile once more, his hands running slowly up Dean's sides and back down as his hips bucked slightly under him, pressing his hard cock against Dean.  
"Mmm, sorry... mean my _other_ head."

"Hmmm," Dean lay down over Sam, feeling the prick of his cock and rubbing himself against it lightly. "You gonna do it? Ask around... bout the surgery?"

Sam cought bottom lip between his teeth, hazel eyes searching Dean's face. Releasing his lip, Sam drew in a breath through parted lips, "Would that make you happy? If I asked around?"

"It would make me _feather fucking_ happy," he answered, still moving against Sam, seducing him, trying to keep him this mood where he wasn't difficult, where they could make some progress.

"Feather fucking happy, huh?" Sam asked him softly, flirtatiously, eyes dancing as he smiled at Dean. "I think I might want you to try that sometime."

"Just remember, not anyone who'd tell Meg you're asking. Last time you went to her... you and I know where I ended up." No he wasn't going to let Sam forget that either.

"Meg is..." he sighed, his gaze falling away from Dean's face, "My father and I never got along. We always argued, about everything. He had _his_ way of doing things, of looking at them, and I had mine." He looked back up at Dean as he raised a hand, tracing one finger across Dean's bottom lip, his gaze riveted to it. "Meg was always there for me. Stuck up for me. Like a," he bit his lip as his finger on Dean's mouth stilled, his gaze darting up to Dean's eyes, "like a sibling."

Dean rolled right off Sam, and sat up against the headboard. "You're not listening to me, and I don't know what to do, how to make you." He bunched some of the sheets up in his hand, squeezing it. "Last time you went to her, I lost my hands and my tongue. She gets wind of this, it'll be worse." He looked at Sam. "And don't you fucking say you can protect me... you can't... you can't protect me from YOU. She knows how to wind you up, knows your buttons, knows what will get you angry. Don't believe me, think ... think about what happened the last time... then tell me it wasn't her." 

Sam frowned as he turned his head to look at Dean. "I didn't mean for you to roll away. See, _this_ is the problem with this 'truth' that you humans hold so dear. I speak it and you get all," he huffed and shook his head before pulling up and swinging his legs off the side of the bed. "I dunno, forget I said anything. Yeah, I'll ask, _for you_ , I'll ask," he huffed again as he reached for his pants, "And _no_ , I won't tell Meg or allow her to find out," he spat, as he pulled to his feet, sliding his pants on. 

Walking toward the door Sam ran a hand through his hair, "Good night, Dean," he called over his shoulder, though he didn't look back. "Or at least it had started to be," he added softly as he tugged the door open and walked out, slamming it closed behind him. 

As soon as the door closed, Dean tossed everything off the bed. "I want my fucking brother back. She is NOT your sister. Goddamit... Come on Sam, fight for this, fight for it, Goddamit."

* * *

Sam didn't return that night, didn't even return at his normal time the next night. It wasn't until very late in the third evening that Sam walked into his bedroom, though he wasn't alone. With him came a very petite redheaded female demon. Neither she nor Sam spoke, until they were both standing beside the bed, looking at Dean. Sam's expression was unreadable, but he definitely wasn't smiling, his lips pressed tightly together, the muscle in his jaw twitching. His wings were unfurled behind him as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. "Dean, this is Jynx," he finally said, moving one hand to wave toward the demon at his side.

Dean immediately tensed at the look on Sam's face, and the wings that indicated he was in a mood. Had Meg got to him, wound him up against him? Was this girl with him going to help with the tortures of the day? He gave her a nod, but remained silent, waiting for a clue.

Recrossing his arms over his chest, Sam's near frown returned to his face. "I want you to tell Dean exactly what you told me, Jynx," Sam ordered as he started to pace away from the bedside, head bowed, "don't leave anything out."

Okay, maybe he wasn't in trouble. Dean's gaze shifted to the girl.

Jynx looked nervously from Dean to Sam and back. "Master Samuel asked me about his," her hand rose to point at the front top of her forehead. "I was here the night that we attacked." Her gaze darted to Sam, then went back to Dean as she cleared her throat.

"Master Samuel was captured and taken prisoner only moments after the attack began, he was taken to one of our best who tortured him mercilously for days. A deal was offered to him, uh, Master Samuel, that the torture would end if he would allow Lucifer use of his body," she hung her head, "Master Samuel never agreed."

Pulling her head up her dark gaze met Dean's. "When he continued to refuse, a surgery was performed, one that would take away his will, his disobediance, making him more like us, making him the son of Lucifer." She licked her lips as her gaze darted back to Sam who was still pacing, his head still bowed a thoughtful look on his face.

Looking back at Dean she fidgeted slightly, shifting her weight, clasping and unclasping her hands. "Lucifer used Sam's body until his own body was readied for him, until the ritual of ascention could be preformed. It was then that Master Samuel was returned here to hell," she bit her lip. "Of course, he was naught but a shell of his former self," she shook her head. "I don't know by who's order, but Meghan was put in charge over him. He was after all, the one who freed our Lord and Master Lucifer and made his ascension possible, so Samuel was not to be allowed to die and his presence here was a welcome one," she stammered slightly, "a-among our ranks, I mean. Meg tended to him personally, until he finally ... the day that he finally awoke."

"Continue," Sam told her, pacing back.

"Rumor has it that Lucifer still has the part of Master Samuel's brain that was removed somewhere here in hell, that he kept it, like a souveigner." She sighed and started to chew her lip as her gaze darted over to Sam once more.

Dean didn't know whether to curse at what happened to Sam or whoop because he was being told the truth now, that he might see and understand how he was being tricked and used. 

"It was after he woke, not that many of us thought he really ever would, that Meghan began to tell him the stories she did as he healed, giving him new memories, a new life here in hell as Lucifer's son." Jynx took a step back from the bed, her gaze darting between Dean and Sam, as if she were waiting for something.

Of course Dean had known Sam's memories weren't real, but he was glad that it came out. "Sam had friends, what happened to them... what did they do to Sam's friends and family. Me?" He asked, his voice cool.

"All memory of Master Samuel's human family was removed. It was top priority that he not ever remember them, you especially," she looked over at Sam, then back at Dean, "As you still lived. It's easier to forget the dead, harder to forget the living."

Jynx looked over at Sam as he seemed to be busying himself with odds and ends and not paying attention, though he was.

"All friends that were near Master Samuel when he was captured were also captured and tortured with him. After his surgery, we killed them to be sure they had no contact with him, so that our plans could not be upset. Meghan brought you here, among the ranks, as we call the souls that are forced to share Master Samuel's bed, because she thought it a fitting way for you to die, by the hand of your own brother after he used you for his own pleasures."

"Well, she came pretty damn close," Dean gave Sam a pointed look. When his brother nodded for her to leave, he reached for Sam's hand. "Okay, so there you have it. Meg's not your sister, I'm your brother... and they fooled you into thinking you're someone, something you're not. What's the next step? How do we find someone to fix your mind?"

Sam slowly pulled his hand from Dean's as he quirked a brow. "You... actually _believe_ all that?"

"What?!" He frowned, searched Sam's face, and felt the blood shoot to his temple. "You mean you set me up? You had her lie to give me hope? You fucking sonovabitch." Without thought, Dean lunged at Sam, hands grabbing for his throat as he toppled both of them to the ground. "You sick sonovabitch."

Sam held him off with his hands, as he fought not to toss Dean with his powers, it was an automatic response normally, it wasn't a light battle that he waged within himself, his eyes bleeding to black. "I never lied to you or set you up, Dean! Stop this! Calm down!" Sam yelled at him.

"Fuck you.... you and your games, you've become just like her... like Meg. Dean threw a punch, missed, then threw another that landed squarely on Sam's jaw. He sprang up, then dove on top of him, needing to beat some sense into him. "You wanna play games, you play it with someone else," he shouted, managing to knee Sam in the stomach.

Sam doubled over at the blow to the stomach, only to charge Dean, sending both of them crashing to the floor, Sam punching him hard in the jaw. The fact now that he wasn't tossing him with demon power had completely slipped his notice. "Stop being so damn stubborn and _listen_ to me for a second, Dean!" 

When Dean easily out maneuvered him and he took another blow to the face, Sam glared as he looked back at him. "That's always your answer! I say something you don't like or that you can't handle and you punch me. Well, fine Dean! Do it! Come on! Hit me! Just like when Dad died! Just like when you found out about what I was doing with Ruby! Instead of listening you just..." Sam stopped talking, his eyes widening as he looked at Dean, the realization of what he'd just said, what he _remembered_ hitting him square in the chest and stealing his breath away. "Oh my God," Sam muttered softly, his legs crumbling under him as he fell to his knees, staring straight ahead as images, memories, feelings bombarded his brain, tears stinging his eyes.

He'd been about to hit Sam again, when the words came tumbling out. "Oh my God," Dean echoed, "oh my God Sam... you remember, you remember." Scrambling in front of him, Dean closed his arms around him, reminded vividly of the night Sam had died in his arms so long ago. But this wasn't death, this was life... this was Sam coming back to him, again. "Sam... Sammy... you remember, remember me now, for real?" He held him so tight that Sam might be in danger of cracking a rib if not for his enhanced body. 

Sam's tear filled hazel eyes met Dean's as he pulled his head back, "I know what Lucky Charms are, and I remember giving you your pendant. I remember when I was ten and you were going to beat up that bully for me. I remember you telling me about Mom, and I remember Dad, finding him dead in his hospital room after I went to get coffee." He licked his lips as he shook his head, "I remember it all, Dean." His face fell, crumbled as he cried, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Shshs... alright... alright, it's good, you remember. No matter what they did to you, you remember," he held him tighter, feeling his own tears course down his cheeks. "Sammy... you're back. I thought..." Today had been the last straw, he'd nearly given up. He kissed him, full on, no holds barred, only remembering after he'd welded their mouths together that Sam... now it was the old Sam... his brother not... not the man who'd... it was too complicted to think about. Breaking the kiss, he searched Sam's face. "We're gonna be okay, no matter what Sammy... no matter what," he kept repeating like a mantra.

It was a little too late for him to think that they shouldn't be kissing. After everything else that had happened between them a kiss was the least of the things he should be feeling bad about, so he kissed Dean back, giving as good as he got, clinging to his big brother. When Dean ended the kiss, Sam shook his head. "I - I," he glanced toward the bed, then looked back at Dean, "I'm so sorry," he continued to shake his head, "I didn't know. I swear, I didn't - wouldn't have... oh God..." Sam looked heavenward as he cried, guilt, shame, self - hate, fear all tumbling through him at once. It was a lot to take at one time, all of those feelings. For the demon, son of Lucifer, who normally didn't feel anything, it was the weight of the world. 

"Been there... done that, Sammy. I know what hell can do to a person," he reminded his brother, sharply recalling his own shame at breaking, at taking up the blade to torture other victims to escape it, at breaking the first seal. "Come on, let's get on the bed, we'll talk," he said, after letting him cry for a while. 

He half picked Sam up, half pushed him onto the bed and could see the horror in his eyes, would bet it was about the things that had happened in this very bed. "What you did... what you did to me, it was less than what they did to me outside," he said, lying a little, but only about his 'internal' wounds. He leaned over Sam, one hand on his chest, stroking. "Let it out... let it all out, because once it's all out, we're gonna need to plan."

* * *

[A few days later]

Sam was out, pacing through the racks, listening to each scream and hating them, together, individually, it didn't matter. They were getting to him, slowly but surely each scream morphed in his mind into Dean's, nearly driving him insane.

He was about to turn and walk away, when a voice caught his attention. This one wasn't screaming, it was speaking.... in latin.

Turning around, Sam saw him, Bobby. They were fastening him to a rack and instead of being like so many others and screaming, begging and pleading for them not to torture him, he was... SPEAKING IN LATIN. Some part of Sam nearly laughed. Yeah, that was Bobby alright.

Walking over to the rack, his face set in grim lines, Sam nodded to the demon telling him to allow _him_ to torture this one. Sam looked down at Bobby, who so far, hadn't said a word after he had walked up.

Waiting until the other demons left them there alone, Sam went to the table of impliments, pretending to get a few ready, looking over at Bobby from the corner of his eye as he did. "Hi, Bobby," Sam mumbled, but knew the sharp hunter could hear him.

When he didn't answer, Sam sighed, "Bobby, I'm not a monster," he caught his lip between his teeth and shrugged a shoulder, "well, I was, but I'm not anymore. Not really..."

"S'funny, ya sure could'a fooled me."

His wings were out, his eyes black, yeah, Sam knew exactly what Bobby was talking about. "Bobby, I - I need to know how to stop this. I want to get Dean out of here."

"Dean's here!?"

Sam looked over at the elder hunter, nodding slowly. "He's in my room."

Bobby eyed him in silence for a long while. "Yer gonna git him outta here? Stop all this?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah, Bobby, just tell me how."

"Yer gonna need the blood of Lucifer's son ta do it." Bobby told him, as he looked at Sam, light eyes meeting dark ones.

Sam nodded, "I don't care what I have to do, just tell me."

* * *

Sam walked into his room, offering Dean a small smile as he entered. "How are you?" Sam asked him, eyeing his brother as he walked over to the bed and sat down on one side, well away from Dean.  
"I, uh, I saw Bobby today." Sam mumbled, hanging his head.

"Bobby? Really?" Dean rolled over on his side, looking at Sam for more information. "And... he alright?" Yeah, he knew the answer to that. "I mean... you know what I mean."

Sam huffed, "I was his torturer most of the day," he shrugged a shoulder, "so other than maybe a pulled hangnail," he gave a small shy smile, "he was fine. At least up until I had to leave him." 

He frowned as he licked his lips, "I, what if I told you that I knew how to undo all of this, how to end the Apocalypse," he looked down at the bed as he shrugged, "well, reverse time to before Lucifer rose. It would give those fighting a better knowledge of what was to come, of how to stop it so that it never got this bad ... Would you, do you think it should be done, no matter what the cost?"

"Of course," Dean nodded, the elation he felt balanced by a sudden fear. Fear that this ray of hope would be taken away. So many ways that could happen. Sam could revert, his memory slipping away. Meg could get wind of what they were up to. The information Sam got could be wrong, or could be some other demon's sick game. "What... what do I ... we need to do?" He sat up, pushing some pillows behind his back. "It's not gonna be easy, is it."

Sam smiled softly and shook his head, " _You_ don't have to do anything. I got this one." He nodded, moving to sit back against the headboard so they were both facing the not-working television. Sam crossed his arms over his chest frowning at it, "I would ask you if you want to," he shrugged a shoulder, "you know, but..." he sighed, "hell sucks for cable reception." 

He looked over at Dean, "Want to play a game or something?" 

"Game?" Dean gave him a 'what the fuck' look. Yeah, when Sam had no memory, by this time they'd be hot and heavy into the kissing or some other sexual game, and yeah, there wasn't much else to do, but was he serious? "Are you kidding me, you gotta tell me more. How're we breaking out of here? How are we turning back time. Sam I know I can't get around out there, but I'm not gonna be cut out of this. I gotta know."

Sam shrugged a shoulder. "Bobby said all I needed to do was a spell. It isn't a hard one really," he frowned and shook his head, "I have to wait a couple days to tie up a few loose ends, and then I'll do the spell and you'll, uh, we'll climb outta here."

"Climb out... you mean literally? It's a long way up." He figured Sam didn't really know the answer either, how the spell would work. "Any word on Castiel?"

Sam quirked a bro., "Dude, if I go askin' about an angel they're gonna _KNOW_ something is up. And as for climbing out, yeah, it's not as hard as it sounds either," he frowned and looked away, mumbled, "because Lucifer is going to knock a hole through the place when he comes back."

"I'd like another dance with fucking Luci." Dean's eyes darkened, his expression hard as he thought of the chance of a rematch. "You managed to keep out of Meg's way? You know she's just jonesing for a promotion." Yeah, she wanted his head on a stick, and if she found out about any of this... they'd be so fucking screwed. 

Sam frowned, "I haven't run into Meg, no, but..." he pressed his lips together. "Jynx has been MIA for a while, I'm getting worried about that." He looked over at Dean, "but it's okay, we shouldn't get too worried about it yet, hell is a big place, she might just be... somewhere..."

"Can't you get one of your... you know... minions on it?" Dean didn't like it one bit, if any of this got out, that Sam had been told his history or recovered his memory. He got up and started pacing. They talked for a while. He didn't know why, but it was almost like playing twenty questions and Sam wasn't offering up information. He glared at his brother several times, but more often than not, Sam avoided his eyes. Dean knew Sam was still shell shocked about the things he'd done to Dean. That was why he never moved close, that was why he hardly looked him in the eyes. That's why their conversations were more stilted than usual. He'd tried to tell Sam, several times, that he'd been where Sam was... that he'd picked up a blade during his own prior stint in hell, and that Sam was a better man, he hadn't even known who he was when he did the things he did. But none of it got through. Well, if things panned out, out there back on earth... away from this place, Dean could make Sam see the truth.

A couple hours later, Dean decided he needed some sleep. Ignoring the wary look that crossed Sam's face when he took his pants off and got in the bed in his boxers, Dean rolled over on his stomach. "G'nite Sammy."

Sam slid closer to the edge of the bed, chewing his lip as he looked at his brother and gave a small nod, "Mm, yeah, Night, Dean." Slowly Sam slid down on the bed, getting comfortable, but making sure to stay as far away from Dean as he possibly could, nearly falling off the bed twice in the process.


	6. Chapter 6

[A few days later]

Dean rolled closer, snuggling up against Sam and throwing one arm over his brother just to make certain he was there. He knew how damned lucky they were to have gotten him back. He kissed Sam's bare shoulder, needing a little contact. Ever since Sam had come back to himself, he hadn't touched him and it just felt... weird now.

Sam moaned softly in his sleep. Sleep, it was something he had just started doing again. He nudged closer to Dean, throwing a leg over one of Dean's and rubbing slowly against him, his groin against Dean's hip. Sam's lips pressed against the corner of Dean's mouth, his tongue darting out to lick his lip slightly before placing an open mouthed kiss half on his lips, half on his cheek. "Mmm, so good..." Sam moaned. One hand ran down his brother's chest slowly to the waistband of his boxers, dipping under to cup him in his hand, squeezing gently. "Mmm...."

"Yeah..." Dean jerked his hips forward, his mind hazy with sleep but awake enough to know pleasure was being offered. Blindly, he sought out Sam's lips, sliding his mouth over Sam's chin until he found it and kissed him. The first time, he kissed him lightly. The second, he went for a deeper kiss.

Sam rolled, his hand sliding from Dean's cock, around his body to grip his ass, pull him up so they were groin to groin as Sam ground against him, kissing his brother back and moaning into it, breaths quickening. 

They were moving together in perfect rhythm, Dean getting the pressure he needed as he rubbed against the buldge in Sam's leather pants. The friction between their legs got him all sorts of hot. "More... Sam, more," he demanded, putting his arm around his brother's waist and pulling him close as he fucked against him. 

Sam gasped and moaned, moving against his brother, one arm wrapped about his back, the other cupping his ass under his boxers, pressing him closer. Lips parted as he panted, "Oh God, Dean... Dean...." Sam's eyes flew open, "Dean!" Sam quickly snatched his hands back, scurrying away from his brother, looking at him with wide eyes. "I - I'm sorry," he shook his head, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to - again, I -" Sam raised a hand to cover his face. "Oh God..." he groaned. 

"Sam? Sam?" Breathing hard, his body ... every molecule screaming in protest at Sam's sudden withdrawal, Dean stared at Sam in shock at his reaction. When his mind caught up, he took a breath, then moved closer, putting an arm around Sam. "Don't... don't be Sammy. Look at me." He licked his lips. "I... I could use a little... I don't want to stop," he said more directly. "Fuck right and wrong, I want this... if you do."

Sam looked at his brother, regret and sadness, shame at his actions shining in his eyes. He shook his head, "I didn't mean to. I -" Sam caught his bottom lip between straight white teeth as he slowly closed his eyes and nodded. "I want," he nodded again as a tear rolled down his cheek. 

"I want it too, Sam. I want it to be with _you._ " Dean threw himself into Sam's arms, kissing his chest, then lifting his head and looking into Sam's face. "Don't cry Sammy. There were bad times," he nodded. "But just as often, once you started coming out... I looked forward to this, I swear Sam." He pressed his hips forward. "Some things you can't fake. Kiss me."

Sam took a deep shuddering breath, and leaned in, slanting his mouth over Dean's, kissing him tenderly, like he might break, kissing him slow, lovingly, his tongue running alongside Dean's, flicking against the roof of his mouth, tangling together with his brother's. Slowly pulling back, Sam sucked Dean's bottom lip into his mouth a second before letting go. "I love you, Dean," Sam told him softly. 

"Course you do, can't help it," Dean smiled, his eyes filled with his own brand of love. Leaning in, he kissed Sam. Once, twice, light kisses, looking at his brother's face between each one, speaking to him silently, with his eyes, the way they always had. It was so good to have him back, so fucking good to recognize him. If this was a trick, if he fucking disappeared back into that hard shadow of himself, Dean thought he might die. "Missed you... missed you so fucking bad." 

"Missed you... me... us... brothers." Sam shook his head. "I messed up so bad, so very bad," he sniffled softly as he nodded, "Gonna make it right though," he gave a small soft smile, "you'll see. I'll get you out of here. I swear it," he whispered before his eyes slid closed and he leaned in, slanting his mouth over Dean's, wrapping his arms around his brother, fingers splayed against his back, holding on tightly.

"We all mess up, we'll fix it... we have another chance," Dean answered, his mouth escaping Sams for only a moment as he spoke. The idea of a second chance filled Dean with elation. 

_Another chance..._ The idea of that made Sam smile. Impossible dream, but if it made Dean happy to dream it, he wouldn't take that away from his brother, couldn't. Dean could never know, he would never tell him and then in the end, it would be too late. Although he was saddened by the fact that he knew Dean would be upset, he couldn't bring himself to be upset in the long run. As he had thought about the things that Bobby told him, Sam had realized he wanted this. Truly wanted it.

Mouth open, Dean plastered it against Sam's, demanding a hard kiss, his arms around his brother, tugging him closer, molding him. Rolling Sam onto his back, he kissed the hell out of him, his body sliding against his brothers, fucking against him. "Need you, want you ... so fucking bad, Sam..." he raked his teeth down his brother's chest and was merciless, unafraid of any ramifications.

Sam clung to his brother kissing him back, giving as good as he got, low moans breaking from deep in his throat to be swallowed up in the kiss. Sam arched against Dean as he rolled him, sliding his body against him. Sam nodded, "Uhh, yeah, Mmm... yeah, Dean, want you too." Sam answered, arching and writhing against his brother, his wings unfurling from his back. Sam gasped as Dean raked his teeth down his chest, head lifting off the pillow to look down at his brother, breaths panting out, before letting his head fall back again. Sam pulled a hand from around his brother, sliding it between them to the fastenings of his leather pants. "Off, need them off, want to feel you," Sam panted softly.

Pushing Sam's hands out of the way, Dean unbuttoned, then unzipped Sam. Tugging the leather down his legs, he helped get them off, and was on top of Sam again, kissing his stomach. His brother smelled faintly of the Old Spice he'd been insisting Dean wear, that and leather... what a combination. Dean sucked on a spot low down on Sam's belly, then looked up. "Don't freak out on me now, okay?" Without giving Sam time to think, he moved lower, grasping his brother's cock and licking its tip. He kissed and sucked Sam's crown, and when he was sure there would be no protest, he licked his length.

Sam's neck arched, lips parted as he gasped in a breath, one hand gripping the sheets under him, the other going to his brother's head, digits tangling in the short soft strands as Sam stared up at the ceiling, hips thrusting his cock upward, seeking his brother's warm wet mouth. "Oh God, Dean..." he panted softly.

It was hard to believe, to understand. He was having sex with his brother... the real Sam. When he kissed him, he could mean it. When he made it good for Sam, he really was making it good for _his Sam._ He ran his thumb up and down the underside of Sam's shaft as he looked up at him. "I never felt more connected to you than I do, right here... right now." Even before the appocalpyse had rained down on them, there had been a lot of distance between them. Now there was nothing. All the barriers had fallen, been stripped away, were gone. "I love you, Sam," he said, before taking him in his mouth, almost all of him, letting is cock hit the back of his throat as he started to suck.

Sam pressed his lips together, eyes closing tightly as his hand slid from Dean's head to grip his shoulder tightly, fingertips digging in, breaths panting out, nostrils flared, chest rising and falling. It was good, so good, and yet how horribly wrong was it? He had done this, had set them on this path. _Incest_. His brother, his big brother and he had done this. Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, Sam fought to clear his mind of the wrongs he had committed, to concentrate only on how good it was to be with Dean, on how he would fix it, everything, set everything to rights. Dean would be proud of him in the end.

As Sam writhed and groaned, as his thigh muscles rippled, as a highly sensitized Dean took in every single reaction that his brother gave him, Dean got impossibly harder, his cock aching and pulsing, Shifting, he practically humped Sam's leg, the thin material of his pants no barrier to the friction that he sought and received. He gave Sam everything he had, licking and sucking him in all the ways he'd learned turned Sam on the most... he'd had lots of practice, now it was time to perform... for the one he wanted to perform for. So Dean played Sam's body like an instrument, his cock, touching his thighs, his stomach, rocking against him, giving it his all.

When he thought neither of them could take any more, Dean crawled back up Sam's body, and looked him in the eyes. "Take my pants off and fuck me. Need you." He pressed his hard cock into Sam's hip to prove his point. 

Sam looked up at his brother through passion glazed eyes, lips parted as he panted his breaths. Swallowing, Sam pressed his lips together as he reached out with both hands, grabbing each side of Dean's boxers and light pants, fisting the material in his hands, his gaze dropping to where his hands paused, only for a moment as his lips parted once more, tongue darting out to lick his lips, he tugged and freed his brother's hard flesh. 

Sam gasped in a breath, pressing his lips together once more, tearing his gaze away from Dean's hard cock, hard, he was so hard, _For me... after everything, it is for me._ He helped Dean push the pants and boxers down all the way, then pulled him into his arms,rolling them so that Dean was under him. Hazel gazed down at green for a long moment, before Sam tore his gaze away once more, to reach down between them, wrapping his hand around Dean's hard shaft, pumping him. Raising his gaze to Dean's face, Sam's lashes fluttered as he closed his eyes and leaned in, slanting his mouth over Dean's, his hand continuing to tease and pump his brother.

"Sam... oh God, Sammy," Dean bit his lower lip as waves of pleasure hit him full force. This was what he needed, needed so bad. His brother holding him, tasting him, touching him, surrounding him. Together, they were gonna save the world again... after they saved themselves. Starting _right now._

Groaning, he raked Sam's back, clutching at him, kneading his flesh, breathing in his breaths. Good, so good, just how Dean needed it, not gentle, but not painful... just right. His tongue tangled with Sam's, made love to it, sliding back and forth, stroking as small sounds of growing need broke from him. He started to lift his hips higher, started to cry out. "Please Sam... need you, need you right now, oh God, I need you," he said, voice edged in panic as Sam kept pumping him. "Please."

Sam pulled back slightly, holding himself up on his hands, as his lower body slid against his brothers, rocked and thrust. "M'kay, m' kay." Sam panted as he nodded to him, pulling back a little more so he could lean toward the nightstand, reaching for the warming lube he had used on Dean before when Dean had jerked off for him.

Moving back, Sam lowered himself down, held up on his elbows on either side of Dean's shoulders, Sam uncapped the jar, before lowering his head and brushing his lips against Dean's. "So hot, bro," he told him softly, eyes closed, he paused there a moment, silently apologizing to Dean again for the thousandth time, before he opened his eyes and pulled back to kneel between his brother's legs, fingers dipping into the jar, before he lowered his hand to Dean's tight hole, his attention on Dean's face. Sam caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly pressed a lubed finger into his brother, his gaze never leaving Dean's.

Dean tilted his head to the side, a silent answer that no more apologies were needed. He watched Sam intently, his breath leaving him as his brother's long finger went to his hole. He gave Sam a tentative smile, nodded for him to go on. Forcing himself to relax his muscles, he moaned as Sam's finger slipped past the tight ring of muscle, and he knew what was coming next. As Sam opened him up, he reached down and closed his fingers around his own cock, slowly stroking himself, eyes locked with Sam's, waiting, wanting, needing.

After working one, then two then three fingers into his brother, Sam finally pulled his hand away, sliding his fingers from him and aligning the tip of his leaking cock with his brother's hole. Only then did he tear his focus away from Dean's face to look down at what he was doing.

Sam frowned, shifted his weight, leaning over Dean, then bit his lip and pulled back, hooking an arm under Dean's leg, and leaning forward again, only to pause there too, his eyes squeezed tightly closed as he bit his lip, his body hovering above Dean, the tip of his cock, as he gripped himself in one hand, pressed against his brother's opening. Sam shook his head and released the breath he'd been holding as he opened his eyes to look down at Dean. "I can't."

It was true, even his erection was starting to dwindle as he had tried to force himself to do that to Dean again, after what he had done before, Sam just couldn't seem to bring himself to do it again, whether Dean wanted it or not.

"What? No... why not... Sam?" Dean's stomach clenched, he swallowed. "You don't want..." His cock was pulsing so bad, it hurt. "Helluva time to decide that bro, helluva time." He took a couple more breaths. "Mind if I..." he was already squeezing himself harder, helping himself, even as his face flushed with embarrassment and his eyes darted away from Sam's. "Fuck...." he rolled to one side, away from his brother, closed his eyes and tried to bring himself off fast. 

Sam huffed and reached for Dean, pulling him back, "Dean, wait...just..." Sam's hand circled around Dean's on his cock as Sam moved to lay half beside Dean, half on him. "I gotcha," Sam told him softly, leaning in to brush his lips across Dean's and kissing a trail back, along Dean's jaw to his neck. "I just couldn't do _that_ to you again... m' sorry." Sam told him softly, warm breath fanning against Dean's neck before Sam sucked the skin into his mouth, biting, then licking it better. 

"It's never gonna happen again, is it?" Dean asked in a small voice. Tears were spilling over his lashes, but he looked away, trying to enjoy the feel of Sam's hand pumping him, his mouth kissing ... teasing him. Waves of heat, of need rode him, but they were tempered by sadness sweeping through him. He buried his face in Sam's neck, not wanting him to see, to know how badly he'd wanted this, needed it. How crushed he was that Sam couldn't see this in their future. 

Sam didn't answer, only pulled his head back as his free hand cupped the side of Dean's face, turning his head back so Sam could kiss him, his mouth slanting over Dean's tenderly, his tongue slipping between his brother's lips to map out his mouth, slid against Dean's tongue and the roof of his mouth, soft moans breaking from his throat as he kissed him.

Sam's hips started to move, thrusting himself up against Dean's hip as he continued to kiss, head turning side to side as he deepened the kiss, fingertips of the hand cupping Dean's face pressing hard against his skin. Sam tore his lips away only long enough for them both to take in a deep breath, before capturing Dean's mouth once more, his body writhing against Dean's, his hand on Dean's cock moving steadily faster, squeezing harder as he pivoted his wrist with each pump.

Groans broke out of Dean as he got closer to release. His arms were around Sam, his fingertips lightly strokng that part of his spine that hid his wings, his mouth crushing against Sam's. It was stupid... silly, but he was still crying, still feeling the loss of something he now understood they'd never take back home with them, and wouldn't even fully recapture here. Maybe he was crazy to want it, but he couldn't control his heart's desire. Single-mindedly, he thrust into Sam's hand, chasing release, wanting it to come quickly now... knowing Sam was only doing this for him.

Sam's wings slowly unfurled from his back as he kissed and thust up against his brother, moans and groans tearing from his throat only to be swallowed up in the kiss. Breaths coming faster, Sam tore his mouth away from Dean's, burying his face against his neck as he panted and arched against him. "Oh God..." 

When Dean's hand skimmed across his wings, Sam sucked in a sharp gasp, arching against Dean, body going ridged. He was achingly hard again, leaking precum against his brother's hip where he continued to fuck up against him. 

Wings... Sam had given those back to him. He touched them now with no fear, stroking them just the way he wanted, being more gentle where he knew Sam was sensitive, but squeezing the edges, feeling Sam buck against him each time he did it. He was swept up in a web of lust and need, tasting Sam's skin, feeling his cock leaving wet trails against his body, fucking into Sam's fist. And then his balls were drawing up against his body, and there was no way he'd let Sam off... no way, at least Sam was gonna come with him. Moving his hand to that spot on Sam's spine, he fingered it. "Come with me, come Sammy... come...." he groaned out the last word as his body tensed and hot spurts of cum shot out of him, kept coming as he called on Sam.

Sam sucked in a breath as Dean's hand, his fingers toyed with the area closest to his spine where his wings stemmed from. He grit his teeth, body tensing as he gripped Dean's shoulder with his free hand, telling himself not to stop moving his hand on Dean's cock. His lips parted, breaths panting as he writhed, "Nuugh! Dean!" Sam threw back his head as his balls drew up tight, the first shot of cum leaving his cock to smear against his brother's hip. 

It took a while, but finally, Sam's body relaxed and he dropped his head down onto Dean's chest, face buried against his neck, breaths panting harshly out, fanning his skin. Sam licked his lips as he fought to catch his breath. "Ohgod... s' good, Dean..." he whispered breathlessly.

Dean didn't dare answer, he just held Sam, held him close. Sam might be feeling guilty for having taken him as a sex slave, when he wasn't himself, but Dean was struggling with his own guilt now. Had he forced Sam into this? Forced him to give him at least some of what he'd needed? His body shook slightly as he clung to Sam. "Just... just wanted to be connected Sam. I"m sorry... just wanted..."

Sam shook his head, slowly lifting it to look down at his brother. His look slowly slid into a frown as he shook his head again, "Why are you appologising? What for?" he leaned down, brushing his lips across Dean's. Pulling his head back, Sam licked his lips. "I wanted it, just as much as you, I just -" he sighed, tearing his gaze away from his brother. "I kept remembering, thinking about what I did before to you and I couldn't do that," he looked back at Dean, "I couldn't do that to you again, I'm sorry."

He nodded, not really believing it all. Yeah, he knew it had bothered Sam, but had Sam just gone through the motions to please him? Yeah, Dean knew Sam would do that for him, go as far as he could. "It's fucked up, isn't it?" 

Sam frowned in confusion and shook his head, brows furrowed. What was fucked up? What he had done? Yeah, he knew that. Was going to do his best to make it right. What else could Dean be talking about?

When he hadn't wanted sex from Sam, it had been forced on him. Now that ... now that he needed it, needed it at soul level, Sam couldn't... didn't want it. Dean started to laugh. "Why... why does every fucking cosmic joke have to be on _me_ , why? Isn't there anyone else to fucking pick on?"

Sam pulled back slightly farther as he looked at his brother in total confusion. "What are you talking about? What - I..." Sam closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. "You didn't want me to," he bit his lip, nodding as he slowly started to pull away from Dean. "M' sorry." Sam uttered softly, head hanging, looking away, not making eye contact, trying to avoid having to look at Dean as he wiped his hand off and reached for his pants.

"No Goddamn it. When I wanted you to, you couldn't... and when I didn't want you to you ... I couldn't stop you. Goddamn cosmic joke, it's fine, it's fine," he was telling himself that as much as Sam, as he sat up too, his body glistening with sweat. "We have more important things to think about than this," he said over the huge lump in his throat. "I shouldn't have made you... It won't happen again."

Sam shook his head as he huffed and stilled, staring at the wall before him. "Dean, you didn't _make_ me do anything. Believe me. I wanted it just as bad as you did, but I just... I couldn't DO it, okay!?" Sam ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Nevermind." he grumbled through clenched teeth as he started to pull his pants on.

"Yeah, nevermind," Dean agreed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and running his hand over his face in a semi-echo of his brother's gesture. Finding his shorts, he sat there with them pulled up half way.

Sam pulled his pants up as far as he could before standing to finish the job, zipping and buttoning them closed. Without another word,he walked to the door, jerking it open. "I'm not the only one who can DO that, ya know?" he spat softly, before walking out, slamming the door closed behind him.

"Do what?" Dean asked woodenly, even though no one was left in the room with him. 

* * *

Two days passed and Sam barely entered his room until he was sure Dean would be asleep. He'd had things to do, the spell that Bobby had told him about would take time to complete and Sam was fairly sure that Meg had gotten her claws into Jynx so there was no more time to waste. He wanted Dean out of hell and safe, he wanted the other hunters out of hell and he wanted to be himself again, the old Sam, before all this... the spell was the only way.

His left forearm was wrapped in a white bandage from where he had continually, over the last two days, bled himself for the spell. It wasn't over yet, according to Bobby, who he had managed to keep as comfortable as possible while being tortured, now there was a conflict of terms. The spell had to be performed for a week straight and at the same time each night. 

Walking up to the door of his room, Sam reached for the handle, frowning down at the bandage on his arm. Dean would definitely ask about it. The thing took up most of his forearm. Well, Sam would just have to... lie.... again. He sighed at the thought, but after everything else, it was the least of his offenses against his brother. 

Sam pulled the door open and walked into the bedroom, closing and locking it behind himself as he always did before heading toward the bed, offering Dean a small, fake, smile. 

Dean had forced himself to stay up. The other nights, he'd tried, but somehow he hadn't been able to. You'd think with nothing to do he wouldn't be able to sleep, but for some reason... yup, he'd been asleep each time Sam came in. Now, when Sam walked in, Dean scrutinized him. Yeah there was the bandaging, but there was more to it than that. Sam had looked tawny, bigger than life, and now there were changes. He was paler... his eyes sunken in slightly, he looked nervous. "Are you drinking demon blood?" Dean regretted the question, the moment it left his lips.

Sam's brows drew together as he looked at his brother, before he licked his lips slowly. "Dean," he spoke slowly as if Dean had suddenly lost his mind, "we're in hell... I don't think that if I _was_ drinking it would be a very big deal, given the circumstances," he quirked a brow, "do you?" he shook his head, lips pressed together. "And no, I'm not. But thanks for asking me that... _again_ ," Sam told him, turning around to plop down on the bed, making a spray of feathers puff up as they fell off his wings and into the air, slowly falling back onto the floor and the bed.

"It would matter... to me." It was just that Sam looked the way he had, when he'd been strung out. His eyes followed Sam to the bed, his mouth dropping open. He reached out and picked up a black feather, then looked at the bandage again. "You gonna tell me, or what?"

Sam looked over at Dean and shrugged his shoulders, looking like a kid trying to be innocent, only he wasn't so innocent. "What?"

"Sam! Goddamnit, you know what I'm talking about," Dean twisted around and was in Sam's face. "Tell me what's going on. What's happening to you... are you turning back... is there a problem? No more lies... no more fucking secrets, you tell it to me like it is. I deserve that." He didn't care if it hurt, it was the truth.

Sam glared at Dean, staring right back at him. "Nothing is ' _going on_ ', alright!? What do you think I'm turning back in to?" his eyes narrowed, "Yeah," he nodded, "that's exactly what it is, I'm reverting back. My coach is turning into a pumpkin and soon my glass slippers are gonna fall off! You figured it out! Wow, that was amazing!" he snapped, pulling from the bed and storming away from his brother. "If all you're going to do is yell at me, I'm going back out there," he jutted his chin toward the door, crossing his arms over his chest, making more feathers tumble to the floor.

In a few strides, Dean was in front of Sam, pushing him against the door, eyes flaring. "Stop it. We went through this before, we're not doing it again. I can't take it Sam, you listening to me? I CAN'T do this. Please... please." He wanted so much for Sam to close his arms around him, to explain, to help him understand... to make it all better. 

Sam let his arms fall as he turned his head looking away, teeth clenched in frustration. Swallowing, Sam turned his head looking back at his brother. "What am I doing again, huh? Nothing. I'm not...," his face twisted into a look of regret, of self loathing, of sadness, "...drinking demon blood, I am not doing anything wrong, Dean. Why won't you TRUST ME!?" he huffed and shook his head, hanging it. 

Slowly he pulled his head up, looking into Dean's fac., "You're never going to believe me again are you?" he asked softly, "Never going to believe IN me," he nodded, jaw clenched, muscle twitching. "It's alright. I got it now." He gave a small bitter laugh, turning to grab the door handle, he looked back over his shoulder at Dean. "I cut my arm, I'm tired and," his eyes slid to the pile of feathers on the floor, then back to Dean, "I don't know why they're falling out, they just are," he said jerking the door open and storming out. 

Standing on the other side of the door, Sam leaned back against it. One, he had told one lie. That was it, the rest of it was true, as much as he could tell Dean, it was the truth. With a sigh, he pulled away from the door and walked off into the smoke and fires of the torture area. 

Dean tried to open the door, cursed, then leaned back against it. All he'd wanted was an explanation. Now he was scared... so fucking scared. He slid to the ground and picked up a feather, his fist closing around it, a tear slipping down his cheek. 

* * *

When the door opened behind him, Dean was playing darts with some of the implements that had been behind the curtain. He was bored out of his mind, and freaking scared for Sam. Sam who hadn't even bothered to check in again in way too long. He was afraid to turn around, afraid of what he'd see in Sam's eyes again. Secrets... Goddamned secrets. Pressing his lips together, he tossed the scalpel again, hitting his mark dead center.

As Sam entered, his gaze was riveted on Dean, even as he closed and locked the door behind him and walked across the room, without a word, directly over to his brother. He tried to ignore the facts that he felt like he had a fever of probably two hundred, his heart rate was way too friggin fast and he felt like he had just been hit by that semi again from so long ago, minus the Impala to cushion the blow. Maybe this was really closer to how he'd felt during his worst moments in life - when he'd been locked in Bobby's safe room, only he felt even weaker now, though he could and would never tell Dean any of this. 

Reaching his brother, Sam gripped his shoulder and pulled Dean around to face him, hazel eyes searched his brother's features for a moment, before he leaned in slanting his mouth over Dean's, kissing him for all he was worth, kissing him as though his life depended on it, like it was the last good thing there was, and maybe on some level that was exactly right, it was the last good thing for Sam Winchester. 

Just like that, the coldness, the distance between them melted. At soul level, Dean knew there was desperation in Sam's kisses, a message... was it an apology, was it because this was the last time for them... once they were on earth, would he demand that they go back to being brothers with no lines crossed? Afraid it was the latter, he kissed Sam back with equal desperation.

The knives slipped from his fingers, and then his hands were all over Sam, groping, memorizing, remembering every place his brother liked to be touched. He tasted good, so fucking good, so perfect to him as their mouths crushed together. Moving his hands over Sam's ass, he squeezed and pulled him closer, his breath catching as Sam's arousal ground into his belly. _Change your mind?_ he wanted to ask, but their mouths never parted as they staggered toward the bed, plastered to each other.

Sam's arms were wrapped tightly around his brother, fingertips digging into the flesh of his back, one sliding up to cup the back of his head, the other lower to grasp his ass, crushing their bodies together desperately, small moans and groans breaking from his throat to be swallowed up into the kiss as their tongues tangled, heads moving from side to side.

Nearly falling back onto the bed with his brother, Sam rolled them so that Dean was over him, pressing him into the mattress, his legs wrapping around each of Dean's, hooking around them, anchoring them together. 

Locked into place like that, every motion that either one made seemed to double the friction between them. As Sam raised his hips and dragged Dean's legs down at the same time, bringing them as close as they could ever get, Dean groaned. Oh God... oh God, this was heaven in hell, it was... and Sammy was bringing it to him. Lifting his head, he stared down at his brother's face, drawn, tired, but eyes full of fiery passion, like Dean had never seen before. It took his fucking breath away.

They started thrusting against each other, no prelude, no slow build up, just fucking hard against each other, kissing, parting and kissing again. Dean's skin burned... was on fire, and it didn't help that Sam was hot and flushed. He struggled to get closer, only their clothing separating them... his boxers, Sam's leathers burning his legs as they rubbed against each other so hard.

One of Sam's hands slid around Dean, sliding between and down, slipping under the soft fabric of Dean's boxers, his large hand wrapping around his brother's hard cock. Sam tore his lips away from Dean's, panting up at him, he begged Dean, the message of what he wanted in his eyes. _Love me. I need you to do it, Dean. I can't. Can't do that to you._

Sam's grip tightened on Dean's cock as he started to pump him, dipping his head to drop open mouthed kisses against Dean's collar and neck, teeth scraping against the tender flesh before his tongue darted out to lick it better. "Please," Sam whispered softly, face buried against the curve of his brother's neck. 

Arching, Dean fucked into Sam's fist, fighting the overwhelming sensations swamping his body, trying to think through them, put a name to the look Sam had given him. It was like a green light but with a yellow coming. Last time, they'd almost gone all the way, and Sam had slammed on the brakes. This time... Another groan broke out of Dean as Sam lifted his hips and refused to allow Dean to roll them over. 

Skimming his mouth over Sam's jaw, he looked into his eyes again. Still green light, still a plea, still forcing him to stay on top. And it clicked. Sam couldn't fuck him, wouldn't ... but he wanted the closeness as much as Dean did. "You sure?" Dean's voice was breathless and shaky, even as he slipped his hands between them and started to undo Sam's pants. The sound of the zipper had him clenching his stomach and biting his lower lip in anticipation.

Sam's only answer to Dean's question was a small exhale of breath as his lips curved just slightly, his hips lifting up off the bed once his brother had his pants unzipped to help him remove them. Hand against the side of Dean's face, Sam led him back to looking at him, his head lifting up off the pillows to crush his mouth against his brother's in another scorching kiss, one that left them both breathing heavily as the kiss slowly ended. Hazel orbs gazed into green for a long moment before Sam's lashes fluttered, eyes closing as he bit his lip, his hands moving over his brother's body anywhere, everywhere he could reach, memorizing the way he felt, tucking this moment away in his heart. 

He helped Sam lift up just as his wings unfurled. Leaning over, Dean kissed the edge of Sam's wings, watching as a feather fell on his brother's chest. Their eyes met. He glimpsed tears in his brother's eyes and his own filled up. Smashing his mouth down over Sam's, he kissed him hard, like it was the first and last time, like it wouldn't stop until they both expired from lack of breath, like it was the beginning and the end.

As their moans grew louder, their motions jerkier, their needs more desperate, Dean rolled off and silently pushed his brother to turn onto his stomach. He started to worship Sam's body with his mouth, kissing him everywhere. His ears, his neck, briefly his wings, then his mouth and tongue moved over Sam's arm. He tugged the bandage off and kissed the angry red straight lines... wounds Dean recognized. 

Sam gasped and writhed as his brother kissed him, caressed him, his head turned to the side, looking back, wanting to see him, to ingrain this image into his mind for eternity. Sam moved his free arm, the one Dean wasn't in the process of kissing the hell out of, and reached back for his brother, needing to feel him, to touch him, just as much as he needed the rest of this. 

Slowly Sam pulled his arm away from Dean, stopping him from kissing the wounds that he had inflicted on himself. Turning onto his side, he pulled Dean down next to him, wrapping a leg around his brother's, he crushed their groins together, hips thrusting against his brother as he leaned in, kissing his lips, his cheeks, eyes, neck, jaw, anywhere he could, as he slid the fingers of his hand into Dean's lacing them together, holding tightly.

"Love you... love you Sam," Dean whispered thickly as his brother made love to him, held him tight. "Never gonna let you go, not ever again," he promised. "And don't you fucking ever let go." 

Sam smiled sadly as he continued to kiss Dean, had to keep kissing him so that Dean wouldn't see the tears that stung his eyes. "Love you too, Dean. S'gonna be okay, S' all gonna be okay, you'll see. I promise," Sam whispered back between kisses. 

They were kissing and making promises, and then the heat flared between them again. Dean detangled himself, and reached for the lube. He wanted to ask again whether Sam was sure, but he was pretty sure this was the only way it was going to happen between them. He sat on his knees between Sam's legs and started to prepare him, working the lube into his hole using first one finger, then a second. As Sam's wings arched up, Dean's cock surged at the thought of kissing them... of making Sam come by kissing him between the shoulder blades.

Dean's touch, his working the lube into him, his fingers breaching him, had Sam gasping and writhing against the bed, small whimpers sounding deep in his throat, eyes squeezed closed. Sam felt his wings arch up as his muscles tensed slightly, lips parting as he turned his head in the opposite direction as he had been laying, breaths panting out. 

It started to rain feathers... black feathers. It couldn't be a good omen, even for someone who didn't believe in them. Dean started to cry, even as he mounted Sam, pressing the blunt tip of his cock against his hole. His tears splashed on his brother's back, but he didn't ask... didn't ask what it meant, not this time.

Eyes still closed, Sam didn't see the raining of his feathers, even though he felt the wave of dizziness sweep through him, a little more of his strength slipping away. Sam arched back against Dean, wanting more, wanting to feel all of him. "S'okay, M' okay." Sam told him softly, pressing back against the feel of his brother's cock at his hole.

Wrapping one arm over Sam's shoulder, and another around his chest, Dean pushed inside in one quck thrust of his hips. "Oh God..." he groaned, electric heat jolting his entire body as his brother squeezed around him like a glove. He nudged his hips slightly, biting his lower lip at the intensity of the sensations ripping through him. "Sammy," he tried to relax, to wait, even when every instinct in his body was screaming at him to take Sam, the way Sam had taken him over and over, the way he would if this weren't _his_ Sam under him. 

Sam's breath left him in a rush as Dean pushed inside with one thrust, lips parted, eyes wide as he gasped from breath. Sam grit his teeth against the painful burn, the stretch of his brother's thick cock lodged deep inside of him. Swallowing hard, Sam nodded. "S' okay. I'm okay." he told him breathlessly, voice soft. Squeezing his eyes closed, Sam started to press back against Dean, sliding one hand down, under himself to grip his cock, stroking himself with smooth hard stokes.

Managing to wait another moment until Sam set a rythm, Dean started to fuck him. Slowly at first, then harder and faster, throwing his head back, trying desperately to find Sam's pleasure point by angling his thrusts. Come on... come on... he wanted, needed to hear his brother crying out with pleasure, had to... would make it happen. He pulled on Sam each time he thrust inside him, blinding heat threating to take him over the edge too fast, too soon. 

Sam moaned softly, biting his lip as he pushed himself up with one hand, palm flat against the mattress, head hanging, breaths panting out hard. One minute he was just trying to fuck into his fisted hand, the ache in his ass slowly ebbing and dying away, letting him enjoy being this close, this connection with his brother, and the next, Sam was throwing his head back as pleasure spiraled through his body making him see white. "Aauugh! Aauugh! Oh God! Deeeean!" Sam gasped, thrusting into his fist harder, faster, pressing back against Dean's cock in his ass as hard as he could. A fine sheen of sweat covered his body within moments, running down from his temples to streak down his cheeks, mixing with the silent tears. 

Relief flowed through Dean but he had not time to enjoy it. His body's demands grew, had him straining to fuck Sam harder, had his body, slapping against his brothers. He kissed Sam's throat, "love... need you," then stretched to reach his mouth. Sucking, exchanging tongues inside their mouths as they fucked so hard it was painful, everything that had happened, every torture, every brutal act was burned out of Dean's mind, banished, erased. 

He moved his face down, kissing Sam's wings just the way he always wanted, no fear, just love. He even nipped the edge of his wing bone with his lips covering his teeth, crying out as he felt Sam tense and clench tight around his hard cock. "Fuck..." His hot breaths ruffled Sam's feathers, made his brother shudder under him, made Dean crazier with need.

The added stimulation of having his wings touched, kissed and nipped, had Sam close so damn close, even as he wanted it to last. "Oh God, Dean... I can't... " he moaned, sucking in air through gritted teeth as he squeezed his eyes tightly closed, writhing under Dean, thrusting back against his brother, his cock into his fist. 

Sam tensed as heat pooled low in his belly, balls drawing up, muscles locked as his head fell back, breaths panting out through flared nostrils, teeth clenched as he gave a low growl that turned into a cry of pleasure as the first rope of spunk shot from his cock.

His brother's release took Dean over the edge with a loud shout of pleasure. His entire body tensing right before he came hard and hot, deep inside Sam, marking him from the inside out, his hands leaving bruises on Sam's now strangely too delicate skin. As he rocked and kept fucking even after the last waves of pleasure were gone, he kept kissing Sam, his ear, neck, his wings, whispering hotly about how good it was, how glad he was that Sam was back. He kissed the corner of Sam's mouth, then plead. "Tell me again, its gonna be okay... everything's gonna be okay, tell me again, Sammy."

Sam nodded, eyes closed as he slowly lowered himself down to the mattress, no longer having the strength to hold himself up anymore. "S' gonna be...okay...Dean," Sam told him softly, almost weakly, licking his lips as he fought to catch his breath.

He was breathing hard, and exhausted, but Dean pulled out of his brother and turning Sam into his arms, rolled them so Sam was on top of him. His wet cock left trails across Dean's stomach, and felt slick against him. "Tell me again, to my face," he demanded, eyes locked with Sam's.

Sam pressed his lips together as he gazed down at his brother and nodded. "S' gonna be okay," Sam repeated, offering a small weak smile, "I'm gonna make it okay again. I promise. Trust me." Eyes shiny, he silently pleaded with his brother to trust him, "please," he added softly before turning his head away quickly, grabbing for one of the rags, coughing into it, coughing up blood. Folding the cloth over so Dean wouldn't see, Sam cleared his throat. "Sorry."

Fighting the urge to make Sam tell him, Dean merely let his eyelids drop closed over his eyes. "Gonna hold you to that bro, gonna fucking hold you to that," he said hoarsely, holding Sam so damned tight, he threatened to break a rib. 

Sam gave a soft smile as he laid his head down next to Dean's, face turned in against his brother's neck. "M' kay," he agreed softly, as his free hand, moved to knock the rag off the bed, his eyes slowly closing.

* * *

The spell was supposed to take a little over a week due to the toll it would take on the child of Lucifer, although the end result would be the same, only more comfortable if performed slowly. However, Sam didn't have anymore time. Meg had gotten her hands on Jynx and now, she knew. She knew what Jynx had told them, knew that Sam was protecting Dean, knew that Sam was remembering, possibly _had_ remembered, and now, she was on the war path.

Her main objective was to kill Dean, even if she had to do it with her own hands. Sam knew the way she worked, knew that she would get his father, well, his _supposed_ father's permission, his blessing first, and then Sam would be powerless to stop her. In a panicked rush, Sam completed four days worth of the spell at one time.

Staggering back from the challace, eyes wide as he gazed at it, as light shot out of the center, he waited. The loud crash that shook all of hell, was the only warning he got. _Daddy's home_.

Rushing from the room he was in, Sam ran out to find as parts of the roofing fell, the ground trembling under foot, demons running, some hiding, some falling to their knees as if in worship, but everywhere there was chaos. With a glance toward the torture area, then back toward his room, Sam made a decision. Dean first, then everyone else. Rushing toward his room as fire shot up from the floor and boiling lava dripped slowly down walls, Sam threw open the door to his room. "Dean, Come on! Now! You have to go!"

The earthquake, all hell breaking loose, it reminded Dean of the last days of the appocalpsye that he'd seen before being dragged down to hell. Only it was worse... hell was worse to begin with. He was ready, dressed, and armed with some of the scalpels from the wall. He had no shoes though, and his feet burned when he stayed in one place too long.

Running to the door, he nodded. "Bobby and the others...." 

Sam nodded, "I'll get them, but you gotta go! Now, Dean! I mean it, I'll get everyone out, I promise!" Sam told him as he led him from the room and down the hall toward the torture area, careful to dodge bursts of fire from the ground.

Running with him, Dean cursed as his feet burned. When they reached the main public torture area, he pointed at a lever which he had a feeling would release everyone at the same time, but Sam shook his head 'no' and reminded him that there were people down here who deserved it, who'd wreak havoc on earth if they went back. They didn't have to time to figure out who was who. 

Leading him to Bobby, Sam released him, then Dean realized a lot of hunters were grouped together in this area. He started releasing them too, and they released others they recognized, warning everyone to only take those they knew. 

The walls started to crumble and there were murmurs of 'Lucifer' that had some demon's killing themselves right there for having failed him. Dean reunited with Sam who was pointing to a cavernous room and telling everyone to move. Once people started running toward it, Dean noticed Sam wasn't walking. Turning back, he looked at his brother. "What the fuck Sam, let's go."

 

Sam nodded, waving Dean toward the room. "Go, it'll be alright. I got this one, Dean." Sam told him, taking a step backward and glancing behind him when another demon screamed in terror as bright light shot through the room. _Lucifer_.  
Looking back at his brother, eyes wide, Sam waved him on, "Go!!!! Now!!!"

Dean stared a long, precious moment, despite hearing Bobby and the others shouting for him. He shook his head. "Can't do it bro, you're walking out _with_ me." No way he was leaving Sammy in here to deal with Lucifer. What the fuck was he thinking, anyway?

The light grew brighter as a sinister growl sounded from its center and was accompanied by a high pitched whine that was loud enough to burst a humans eardrums if exposed to it too long. "Dammit!" Sam grumbled, hands clenching into fists at his sides, jaw clenched as he stormed toward Dean. "COME ON!!!" Sam yelled over the noise, running with Dean into the cavernous room.

Dean's heart had been about to stop when he thought Sam was going to throw it all away and stay behind to fight Lucifer or whatever the fuck he thought he was going to do, but now as they ran, he had no more time to think. When they entered the cavern, he felt Bobby's glance, and saw a deep sorrow in his eyes. He gave the older hunter a smile, knowing what the man must have gone through. Behind him, he saw Jo, and just knew she couldn't talk. But Sam said time would go back - he'd have to trust in that.

He watched his brother say some words. Cocked his head, and then it was like the ground under them exploded, lifting them, shooting them straight up and out of the ground topside. Boulders, rocks, and people fell back to the earth, some crying out, others helping each other out. Dean found his head protected, mattressed by Sam's chest.

His first look at the sky had him shouting in elation. "Son of a bitch... sonovabitch, blue sky... sight for sore eyes." Time had to have wound back, because the sky had been blood red right before he'd been captured. "Look at that Sammy, seen anything prettier?"

Sam gave a tight smile. "Hope to," he mumbled, before rolling, helping Dean to get where he could stand. "Keep moving," Sam told him weakly as he pulled up onto his hands and knees, head lifted as he squinted in the sun, looking out. "Need to keep moving, we're too close to where we came out." He pulled shakily to his feet, looking over at his brother before he jutted his chin ahead of them. "You need to keep going, keep them all going. Come on," Sam told him as he started slowly walking forward.

One look at his brother, and Dean knew Sam was in worse shape than he'd thought. "Bobby, get these people out of here," he shouted, though since they were all hunters, they knew what do to.

Putting his shoulder under Sam's arm, he took a lot of his weight and started to walk, half dragging him. "Come on Sam, there's a cold brew with our names on it waiting on us. Come on, I can almost taste it, can't you?" 

Sam nodded, concentrating on walking and not staggering. He took a few steps with Dean before his legs gave out and he fell hard to his knees, then over, rolling onto his back. Blood oozed from Sam's forehead, from the scar that had nearly been invisible before, to run down his face, from his nose and bubbled out of his mouth as he opened and closed it, trying to talk, instead only coughing. "Go..." he managed to gasp out between coughs. 

Dean was almost dragged down with Sam. By the time he turned, his brother was on the ground, waving him off. Dropping down onto the ground next to him, eyes wide, Dean took in his ravaged face, all the blood. "Sam... Sam what the fuck... Sam," his jaw aching, he put an arm under Sam's head, cradling him close. "Come on... you gotta get up... we're gonna beat this, you and I ... you promised... Goddamit Sam don't... just don't..." Eyes filling with tears, he shook Sam. "Get up."

Sam pressed his lips together as he drew in a breath through flared nostrils. "No... promised it'd be okay," he nodded, "s'okay now. I did it." Sam told him, even as feathers, great chunks of them, fell to the ground and started to blow away in the wind, leaving bald spots in the leathery skin of Sam's wings, blood seeping from the skin. "S' okay now," Sam told him softly, blood dribbling down his chin as his eyes slowly slid closed, his teeth clenching together against the pain that wracked his body.

"It's not okay, this is NOT okay Sam. Goddamit... Goddamn you, what have you done?" Dean held him against his chest, tears rolling down. "What have you done, Sammy. It's _not_ okay... not..."

Sam's back arched as a growl of pain tore from his lips, his body breaking the way it had before, when he had been captured, before Lucifer had taken his body, used him for a time, then made the demons change Sam into one of their own. Time was turning back, faster now. "I -" Sam's mouth moved, though only blood bubbled and oozed out, running down the side of his face as he reached up with a shaking hand to grip the front of Dean's shirt. "I fixed it. Did the spell, my blood, Lucifer's son," he drew in a shaky breath, "S' fixed now."

Dean wanted to rant. To shout at him. To tell him this was what happened when he kept secrets. To say they could have found another way, they Goddamned could have. That he wanted that Goddamned beer, wanted to have it with his brother, that he demanded it be with his brother. But as Sam's life ebbed away, he couldn't do any of those things. "Sammy," he whispered, his voice choking with emotion.

"Dean," Sam spoke softly against his chest, "M' scared, cold." He tried to give a harsh laugh only to choke on more blood.

"I'm here, I gotcha," he choked, using his thumb to wipe the blood off Sam's mouth, only more came, and more. "Sammy..." He tried to rub his body lightly, tried to massage the cold away. "Look at me Sam, right here... I'm right here. Don't be scared... don't," he demanded, holding him tighter, remembering the last time Sam went cold in his arms. "Stay with me.... please Sam... stay with me," he pleaded, but he'd been here... right here... before, and he knew it was goddamned useless. "I'll take you somewhere hot... somewhere nice and warm...," he said, voice shaking.

Sam's brows furrowed as he grimaced in pain, a deep groan of pain leaving him, "Hurts..." His hand fisted in Dean's shirt loosened and tightened, turning and twisting the material. 

Dean put his hand over Sam's, holding tight, his gut clenching so tight he could barely breath. "Sammy... breathe... Sam." His own expression was pained, every cell in his body screaming out against this, against his younger brother hurting. He could take this... not Sam, he _wanted_ to take Sam's place. "Right here... look at me," he said, "look at me. I'm right here." 

Pain glazed slightly slanted hazel eyes met green, "D-Dean?" He choked, vomiting up a mouthful of blood that bubbled over and oozed out from between his lips, dripping down the side of his face. More feathers fell, the leathery skin of his wings folding in on itself. Sam's breaths caught in his throat, eyes widening as he stared up at Dean, fisted hand in his brother's tee trembling violently.

"Jesus..." Dean hissed, eyes locked with his brother's. "Right here... love you bro... right here with you, do you hear me... right here with you, like _always_. Right where I belong," he said, blowing out a breath, trying to talk, but his voice was so raspy now, he didn't even know if Sam could understand him. 

Sam's eyes darted left to right, a low whine tearing from his throat, face twisting into a look of anguished pain, "Dean...." he groaned out, breaths panting, chest heaving, "love.... you...." he grit his teeth, back arching as he growled in pain. All at once Sam quieted, his hand fisted in Dean's tee loosening and sliding down the front of his chest as Sam's body collapsed back into Dean's arms, the light extinguished from his eyes. 

_No!_ Dean's heart hurt like something was gripping it, stopping it from beating. A thick, unintelligible sound broke out of him as his brother shuddered one last time, then went lax in his arms. He stared with disbelief at his brother's blood spattered face, and into his eyes... frozen now for all time. Pulling Sam completely up against his chest, with his arms crossed behind Sam's back, Dean looked up and shouted. "Help me. Somebody help me!"

The hoarse sounds were ripped from his throat, raw with pain and sorrow so deep that more tears wouldn't come.

"GOD help me!!!" He shouted again, and again. "God. Help. Me."

But Zachariah was right. God had left the building and he'd left Dean sobbing over his brother, kissing his face, tasting his blood, pleading... begging him to stay even when he was already gone.

The wind blew feathers around them, scattering them just like Dean's dreams of a second chance. A second time around where he and Sam would right the world together, find a better ending. His world ended right here, right now... there was only darkness... a darkness that was thicker and blacker than the blackest pits of hell.

_And yet... the sun was shining... and the Apocalypse had yet to come._

THE END

(A/N: **SEQUEL** is a standalone hurt/comfort called "In The Arms Of An Angel" - but note that the pairing there is Castiel/Dean - http://archiveofourown.org/works/3717571)


End file.
